


Other side

by CMDAK



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: M/M, Possessive Q, Protective Alec Trevelyan, Protective Q
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-09
Updated: 2017-04-12
Packaged: 2018-04-25 13:43:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 112,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4962841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CMDAK/pseuds/CMDAK
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>13. Q ends up being the scapegoat after Spectre and Alec gets to be his personal guard in prison while James forces himself to keep away until it is safe<br/>12. Q and Vesper are brother and sister and Q wants revenge for her death. But Bond is not how he had imagined him to be.<br/>11. Blood is thicker than water, even if Franz's father adopted James.<br/>10. Q is a mob boss and James and Alec are his bodyguards/babysitters.<br/>6 - 9. MI6 tires to kill Alec and both he and James, who is his lover, go rogue. Q is the Quartermaster everyone wants.<br/>3 - 5. James more or less snaps after he lays Alec to rest for eternity in the cold ground and leaves MI6. Q, M's son that was forced to become a double oh, is sent to convince the man to come back, but he is more than happy to leave his life at MI6 behind and join James.<br/>2. Alec, still bitter over the way things ended for him during the "GoldenEye" incident decides to get revenge on James' lover.</p><p>All the fills that have one, two or all of our darling boys being evil.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The request was: "Perhaps if you are up to it, could I ask for a fic in which Q is the secret head of Spectre and Alec is his second-in-command. Now the two of them not only have to convince James to share their bed but also to join them in their fight to take MI6 down. I leave their motivation for defecting entirely up to your imagination. "
> 
> I did my best so please enjoy a James who is tormented by his loyalty.  
> As usual, please forgive any and all mistakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Everything had to be a lie. Well, everything was a lie, except for the things that were supposed to be the truth. Q couldn't be a traitor and neither could Alec. The two men that James trusted wholeheartedly couldn't have anything to do with SPECTRE.

Everything had to be a lie. Well, everything was a lie, except for the things that were supposed to be the truth. Alec was dead; no, he _had_ to be dead. Q had been forced to listen to the man die on the coms with him, had to hear his pleas for help before the hurting silence fell over the room. And Q broke down, had thrown everything off his workstation, even his beloved mug and cursed the skies and everything around him.

 

“I did everything I could to save him, James,” he hiccupped out between sobs when they had reached James’ apartment. “I pleaded with M, with Bill, with the Prime Minister himself! I knew what they were going to do to him and I couldn’t stop them!”

 

The flame that once had been so powerful in Q’s mesmerizing eyes had lost its power and he sounded hollow. But he was still the Quartermaster and he worked five times as much to ensure that nothing like that ever happened and the results were quick to follow. Soon, number after number of the organization that hounded MI6 the most started to fall and the Prime Minister couldn’t be happier.

 

But Alec dying had been nothing more than a lie, a scene perfectly played out for MI6 because there he was! Alive and well and delivering a speech that sounded like the type a MD would give to a manager before he was fired to the man who had almost killed James four days ago, only managing to fry everything that kept him connected with MI6.

 

And as if that wasn’t enough of a blow, Q was right behind him, dressed in an impeccable suit that should have made James proud of his excellent tastes in tailors, nursing a glass of whiskey and definitely doing this out of his own free will, not because he was forced. And it hurt James; it hurt him so much to think of himself as being used by the two persons he loved the most in the world. Why did they do this to him? Why did they abandon him?

 

Q’s outburst on the day of Alec’s supposed death should have been a clear tip that something was off since Q never ever showed so much emotion when people could see him. And he had never lost his hope so fast, always rolling his eyes and shaking his head, starting to abuse all the keyboards around them in an attempt to either get access to a satellite to see if the area was really devoid of his lovers limping somewhere dark to lick their wounds in private.

 

“Can you imagine how shocked I was to discover what you were doing here? To stumble upon an island where unauthorized researches were going on and with SPECTRE’s unique code imbedded in its computers?” Q sounded calm, his hand perfectly still in the air to keep Alec from talking, but James knew the unforgiving storm that was behind those words, knew just how dangerous the young man was when he spoke so smoothly.

 

“I couldn’t care less about that!” He threw something towards Q and James clutched the wall tightly to hold himself back from jumping in and pushing Q to safety, Alec easily catching the ornate dolphin. “How do you think this makes me feel? Forced to sit back and watch you and your MI6 lover babysit another agent and making a complete mockery of our once great organization!” He turned his head to the side and spat, muttering something James couldn’t quite make out.

 

Q didn’t miss when he threw his glass, hitting the man right in the middle of the head. “I am your leader. You were supposed to follow my orders to the letter and if you had a problem with how I ran things, come and speak to me!” His voice echoed around the room and Alec placed a hand on the back of his neck, Q instantly relaxing. “Instead you went behind my back and did _this_ , almost exposing our continued existence to the whole world and killing so many innocent people.”

 

The man started to laugh and James heard Alec pleading with Q in Russian to let him rip his vocal cords out and then torture him to death for what he had done. “You’re not really bothered by the possibility of MI5 or MI6 finding out about this. And despite what you claim, you’re not really upset about the fact that my test subjects were civilians.”

 

Q started to shake and Alec instantly wrapped his arms around him. “You will hold your tongue before I hold it for you and cut it,” he threatened and any sane human would have immediately vacated the room.

 

But the man knew he was dead either way and perhaps he hoped to anger the two enough to be granted a swift death. “Oh, of course the same thing that bothers him bothers his little fake Russian as well! And namely that your beloved James Bond, the man who was a thorn in our sides since the first moment he joined the _navy_! The navy, not MI6, mind you… The agent who should have been killed by _you_ instead of protected is finally dead! By my hand!”

 

He threw his head back and laughed and Alec made to tackle him, but Q grabbed his hand and kept him by his side, placing those soft, little kisses on his knuckles that always work to placate both of them. But James saw the little shake Q was struggling to keep, saw how he had bit his lips to the point of drawing blood and knew that if it were just Alec and him, he’d break down. Or would he? Did he really know anything about Q? About Alec? About their relationship?  

 

“Am I wrong in my way of thinking, _Number one_?”

 

All the air left James’ lungs that second and the world started to spin around him. He had hoped, prayed that it wasn’t like that. He foolishly thought, despite all the clear evidence, that Q was not that; that he wasn’t Number one. When the other boffins called him their Overlord, it was supposed to be a joke, not the truth. Q wasn’t supposed to be... And Alec was dead, dead, not there! Not by Number One’s side! Not Number two!

 

“Not my bloody enemies!” James shouted on top of his lungs, revealing himself.

 

Q instantly paled and if he wasn’t sitting down, he would have collapsed. Alec’s response was slow, shocked as well, and if James had been any other MI6 agent with a weapon and without a romantic attachment to them, Q would have died long before he used his body as a shield.

 

“James, lyubov' moya, you’re alive.” Alec had no right to sound that relieved to see him and call him that! He should be reaching for his gun and shooting him, cussing him because he was his enemy and enemies are not happy to see their targets alive and well.

 

Q moved faster than him – and with less caution – throwing himself at James and wrapping his arms around him, squeezing him as hard as he could while nuzzling his neck. “You’re alive, you’re alive,” he muttered over and over again, laughing. “Alec, he’s alive and well. Or mostly well.”

 

Alec brought up a chair and pushed James down in it, hugging him and telling him how much he had missed touching while Q pulled out a first aid kit out of somewhere. No one paid attention to the other man in the room, allowing him to access the main computer and punch in a code that silently started a countdown to when the base would self-destruct.

 

“James, you are going to be the death of me one of these days,” Q scolded him, actually tugging on his ear for a moment before starting to caress his face lovingly. “Please never disappear on me again; I’m young, but my heart won’t be able to take it if you keep pulling stunts like these.”

 

For a moment, James saw the Quartermaster, the man he loved. And he allowed himself to lean in Q’s hand and rub his face against the soft hand, easily accepting the sloppy kisses Alec was placing on his neck and ear. And then he remembered. He remembered that he was in the presence of Number One, his greatest enemy and elbowed Alec away from him, cruelly pushing Q away as if he was plagued.

 

“James, what—“

 

“You will be silent!” He shouted, getting up from the chair and rearranging his clothes, throwing the kit at the man who was leaning against the computer console, a crazed look on his face. “I have had enough of your lies, _Number One_.”

 

Q looked hurt and it pleased James. It pleased and made him sick at the same time, because he had promised the young Quartermaster that he would do anything and everything in his power to ensure that it would never happen. But again: he wasn’t dealing with the Quartermaster anymore. He was dealing with a traitor, with a man who had sold his soul, country and people he had claimed to love and care about for power.

 

“I never lied to you, not once.” Q said slowly, trying to get back some resemblance of an uncaring mask on his face. “I ran your missions with MI6 and the UK on my mind and in my heart. This,” he threw his slim hands above his head, Alec hovering near him a sickly pale look on his face that made his green stand out even more, “is not of my design. SPECTRE doesn’t deal in this anymore. That man is a traitor.”

 

James realized that the hollow laughter was coming from him and he felt as if he was a spirit, watching his whole world come crashing down around his battered and bruised body. “Then you can say that the three of you have something else in common besides the blood of the innocent on your hands.”

 

Q glanced at his shaky hands and Alec grabbed them, placing a kiss on each one before shoving them in his jacket, back turned to James. “Don’t listen to him; he’s just in shock. We are nothing like this traitor. The current leading class of MI6 and the UK has more in common with him than we do.”

 

A loud alarm went off, announcing that there were fifteen minutes until everything was destroyed and that everyone should evacuate. Q bolted for the computer, hitting the keys with no mercy, trying to stop everything. The man pulled a gun from his coat and pointed it at him, getting tackled by both James and Alec, the former man punching him in the face so hard that he instantly broke his nose and caused him to pass out.

 

Alec laughed and patted James’ back, only to also get punched in the face. He recovered fast enough to avoid getting hit again, grabbing James’ arm and throwing him on his back. “James that is enough! You’re already hurt, don’t make me hurt you more,” he growled just as the other man dragged his leg under him and made him fall on his back.

 

They sat like that for a moment before they both threw their arms around each other and started to wrestle, managing to roll out of the room with Q hot on their heels, yelling at them to stop. James made to tackle him, but Alec easily kicked him in the spine and pinned him under him.

 

“Alec, don’t hurt him more than he already is!” James wanted to laugh at the worry evident in Q’s voice, free his arms long enough to give him a slow clap and then wrap them around his throat. He knew how he felt about traitors, knew how much they hurt him and what he had gone through with Vesper.

 

“Really trying to do just that, Q, but I think you should tell him not to hurt me!” Alec struggled to say just after he got hit in the face with the back of James’ head and ended up pushed into a wall, getting hit just below the ribs over and over again.

 

They ended up outside of the room, hitting each other blindly, scratching, kicking and even attempting to bite and Alec managed to push James away from him, pulling a gun out of his jacked. “Really James, try to make this easy for me and sit still so I can shoot you somewhere that won’t kill you.”

 

James was glaring at him and Alec dared to look apologetic as he cocked the gun, but before he could shoot, Q pushed his hand down. “Alec, let’s not get hasty and try to use our words before our fists and weapons, okay?”

 

“Kotenok, we tried to use our words but that didn’t quite work, now did it? And he attacked me first,” Alec grumbled, putting his weapon away. “Don’t charge our kotenok James. He’s lost a lot of sleep because of you.”

 

Q took a few steps towards him before the building shook and he lost his footing, a loud noise coming from above him. James moved instantly, pushing Q away just as debris started to fall, a rather large piece falling right where he had been standing. He ran his hands over him, wondering if the man had an extra pair of glasses while checking to be sure that he wasn’t hurt before he realized what he was doing, freezing when his hands brushed against the SPECTRE ring.

 

Q smiled sadly at him, cupping his face gently, placing a soft kiss on his bruised forehead. “I am so sorry you found out like this, James. I would have liked it if it happened under different circumstances.”

 

They were close enough for James to take notice of the concealer Q had used to hide the huge bags under his eyes. How long had he stayed awake, trying to track him before he threw his hands in the air and revealed his colours? And it certainly couldn’t be easy to both be the MI6 Quartermaster, the youngest and most brilliant they had ever had, and the head of an organization bent on taking over the world. Again, funny that James had imagined on more than one occasion Q making everyone kneel before him and kiss the ground he walked on.

 

“And those different circumstances would have you with a gun pointed at me, right?” James muttered and his face scrunched up in disgust. “You would have rather stared down at me while I was in a pool of my own blood and then shoot me in the head, am I right?” He clutched Q’s shoulders tight and shook him hard. “Am I right, Quartermaster?”

 

Alec charged him and they were fighting again, going deeper and deeper into the building, countless people running past them, trying to reach the escape pods - because of course this place would have such things; it was on top of a volcano so it was just one shark away from a full blown cliché, James thought as a fist from Alec dislodged a tooth.

 

“Number One, you have to get out of here!” Someone shouted from behind James, startling him. “Number Two, you too! The men will not leave until they see your chopper in front of us.” He pushed past James, ignoring him completely and grabbed Alec’s arm, trying to drag him away.

 

James took that opportunity to run, cussing under his breath when he realized that Q was right behind him, begging him to stop and come with them. His heart skipped a beat when he caught a glimpse of the man tripping and face planting, but of course Alec was right next to him, pulling him back on his feet, dusting him, caressing his face, making sure that he was alright… Like the good Number 2 that he was – and that title suited him better than anything right now.

 

He took sharp lefts and rights going deeper and deeper into the building until he was no longer running on ground, but glass and he stopped the second he heard something a loud cracking sound. Alec grabbed the back of Q’s neck and pushed him behind him, keeping him on solid ground and from following James.

 

Hands in the air, Alec threw James his usual carefree smile, blocking Q’s terrified face with his body. “James, must we really do this? Must we play this game of cat and mouse? Stop this already and come home with us. We’ll laugh about this over dinner and then get whatever pent up frustration you have out of your system in bed.”

 

James laughed, hands thrown around his stomach, bent over, eyes closed. “Only you could say that, Alec.” He sobered up instantly and Alec got tense again, Q’s thin hand that was on his arm tightly clutching the fabric under it in clear stress. “Even when you betray me, you crack jokes and suggest we fix everything with sex.”

 

“But we didn’t betray you! MI6 did, the Prime Minister did, not us!” Q spoke up, head peeking out from behind a struggling Alec.

 

James took a step forward, pushing all of his weight on the steadily growing crack. “They are not the leaders of SPECTRE now are they?” He reached for his gun only to realize that he no longer had one and took a deep breath to calm himself down. Who was he kidding? He was in such a state that he couldn’t shoot either of the two even if he had a weapon. “I gave you my trust after Vesper. I allowed myself to—No; I am not having this conversation with either of you.”

 

“Not on that flimsy piece of glass you are not,” Q snapped in that typical Quartermaster voice of his, pushing Alec out of his way but not stepping away from the solid ground. “You will get in that bloody chopper of ours, get your wounds treated by a real medical team and have a proper meal. And then we will talk.”

 

He would have normally been turned on by Q ordering him and he’d whisper lowly in his earwig about all the things he planned on doing to him, uncaring that all of Q Branch was probably listening in and recording the whole thing. But now he could only picture Q sitting in a room full of terrorists, giving some sick, demented speech right before ordering them to level down a village or a city.

 

“James! James run here this instant! The glass floor won’t hold you any longer,” Alec’s sharp voice broke through his mind. “You can have your delayed loyalty crisis after this dump blows up and we’re at a safe distance, okay?”

 

Another loud crack got everyone’s attention and James looked down to see that a new large fissure form around his legs, thousands of tinier ones forming a web pattern that might have made even a spider jealous. Both Q and Alec extended their hands for him, urging him to start running and for a moment, it looked like he was going to make it. But the floor finally gave away and Q almost threw himself after him, trying to catch him and pull him to safety.

 

“Q, we have to get out of here,” Alec was growling, a robotic voice now announcing that there were only ten minutes until the whole thing self-destructed. “You know James. You know he doesn’t actually die. He probably caught on to something and he will be back in the field before you know it.”

 

Q sighed and allowed the man to drag him away and manhandle him into their private helicopter, resting his head against Alec’s shoulder as they finally took off, tens of military models following their example. He held on tighter to Alec as the island exploded and the man started to rub his back, kissing his temple.

 

“We’re going to drop one of those amazing lifesavers things you designed to make things easier for James, okay?”

 

“Have each chopper drop one. I equipped them with too many and I want to be sure that he actually gets into one and that he has enough provisions to last him until a boat or ship finds him and saves him.” Q managed to sound uncaring, as if he wasn’t bothered that one of his lovers – the more fragile of the two – had broken up with him and branded him and Alec as traitors, backstabbers, people who were barely worth the bullets he surely wanted to embed in their heads.

 

When the first package hit the water, James had thought that it was going to explode, especially since he saw so many dropping from the sky. He swam as far as he could and braced himself, expecting to feel his body ripped to shreds. But nothing more than a splash took place and, as he watched the choppers getting further and further away, he realized that they were all neatly packed inflatable boats.

 

He opened one and got in, taking note of the dry food and water resistant small radio that had been packed in next to a flare gun. Still on the same wavelength with his former lover and Quartermaster, he grabbed a couple more and started to paddle away from the still exploding island, the situation finally dawning on him.

 

Q was a traitor. Alec was a traitor. MI6 could still be filled with other SPECTRE agents, especially Q branch that had been personally staffed by Q. He had to get in contact with M as fast as he could and let the man know of how things had changed. He imagined the old M and good old Boothroyd, the man that had pretty much raised Q and groomed him to take his place, were rolling in their graves.

 

He was plagued for two nights of dreams with Alec and Q practically doing it on top of his cold corpse, laughing at his stupidity. And when he wasn’t dreaming of that, he saw London in flames, the heads of everyone he knew on metal spikes on top of the Buckingham palace, the flag replaced by one that had a white octopus on a black background.

 

When he finally had enough and accepted that no ship would come that far at sea, he turned on the radio. His heart skipped a beat when he heard Q’s voice instantly start to be broadcasted and despite himself, he brushed his fingers over the little speaker, closing his eyes so he could easily picture Q’s lips instead.

 

“ _This message is only for your ears only,”_ a pre-recorded Q started to explain in that soft and patient voice he usually reserved just for him and Alec – and he couldn’t keep Vesper’s voice that resided deep in his memories if it was it really just for the two of them - behind closed doors. “ _I already changed SPECTRE’s radio frequency and the message will stop once you hear it, so do not bother R with tracking this._ ”

 

How typical of Q to think of everything and how horrible for them that he was no longer on their side. “ _MI6 thinks me dead or rather MI6 killed me._ ” Good, James wanted to think, but his heart still skipped a beat at those words. “ _Your body wasn’t even cold and I hadn’t even finished wiping the tears from my eyes before they sent me to personally equip another double oh agent._ ”

 

“Drop the act. Drop the bloody act!” James shouted, grabbing the little radio and starting to shake it.

 

“ _Well, it doesn’t matter. I am officially dead, but rest assured that Alec managed to save 004 and he is probably sulking away in Medical right now. You can tell them everything you know and paint me as a devil for all I care but know that no one else in MI6 knows. Just you and Alec._ ” Q took a deep breath and with the eye of his mind, James saw him rest his head against the radio, the small disturbance that was recorded giving away the fact that Q had started to caress the machine.

 

“ _I love you. I always did and I always will. And Alec feels the same. SPECTRE is… my legacy and not as it once was. All my agents will keep away from you and I will continue to watch over you as if I am still your Quartermaster.”_

 

There was a bit of a cracking noise and James head Q sighing before Alec’s voice came through the speaker. “ _And whenever you get your ass in trouble, I’ll be in the shadows, saving it. Like it has always been. You do what you do for MI6, but I always did it for you, for us and, after Q appeared, for him as well. Be safe and open your eyes.”_

The radio went dead after that and if James had to wipe his eyes and choke back a sob, it was because of the heat and nothing else. He contacted R – picking up between hiccups and tears that she was now Q because someone in Intelligence fucked up and her beloved Overlord got killed while shielding 004 – and asked to be picked up.

 

He was picked up by a fishing boat and found out from the old captain with horrible English that he was doing this as a favour to a friend of a friend and so on and so forth. Back on English soil, the new – because he would always refer to the man that followed the woman who had practically been his mother as that – admitted with shame in his voice that the PM had ordered them to leave him at sea.

 

“Is this your way of hinting that I should retire? Because I’d rather you come out and say it directly instead of leaving me to float for days in the middle of the bloody ocean.” It wasn’t unusual for the agent to talk back to his superiors or use a mocking tone when addressing them, but this time he was bitter and accusatory with his words.

 

But everyone assumed it was because Q had died and M simply gave him a month off with a recommendation to drop by the psychiatrist every three days. He didn’t, of course, deciding to self-medicate with alcohol and countless one night stands, avoiding Q Branch and everything that was even remotely Russian as if it was the plague.

 

When he finally got to his apartment – _their_ apartment; they had bought it together on their one year anniversary to celebrate the fact that they were still all alive and together – he ordered the doorman to bright him boxes in which he stuffed everything that was theirs and not just his. It hurt that, at the end of everything, he was left only with a few movies, three books and his clothes – and even some of those were not quite his, some of them being little gifts from Alec and Q.

 

Eve, R and Bill suspected that something was wrong, very wrong, but never quite got the man to say what it was. Not even when he was dead drunk. He’d just scold them for trying to use such childish tactics on him, of all people and then start to tell them of his past adventures with Alec and how Q would shake his head and tug on their ears, dissolving in a fit of laughter that brought tears to his eyes. Or they were real tears and he just covered that up; no one knew for sure and no one wanted to poke that hornets’ nest to find out.

 

The month off turned into two and by the third one, he stormed into M’s office, demanding to be put back on active duty. He had nothing to keep him sane, he explained. The missions were the only thing that were keeping him alive - not that his words should be misinterpreted as suicide warnings, but M had to understand where he was coming from.

 

“We simply have no missions to send you on,” M easily lied through his teeth and James knew that because he had started to eat lunch with R and the poor woman was complaining about how exhausted she was and how they seriously needed more double oh agents in the field.

 

So he started to go on trips that just happened to be where a double oh needed backup the most and he just happened to have Q branch issued tech. No one said anything officially, but everyone was generally grateful to him - and he was thankful for those stray shots that kept balling both him and the agents he was totally not helping out, but he would never admit that out loud.

 

Well, almost everyone. The Prime Minister wasn’t happy at all, blaming the increased destruction on the inactive agent poking his nose where it wasn’t his business. He even threatened M with firing him, but the man pointed out that he couldn’t control what an agent did in his time off. If he was simply in the neighbourhood when disaster struck and he joined in to help a fellow agent, he couldn’t punish him.

 

His constant meddling did finally get him sent on an official mission with the PM’s blessings, but it turned out to be hard. Very hard. So hard, that if James was another agent who hadn’t practically been raised by the UK navy and secret service, he would start to suspect foul play. In fact, if he were honest with himself, R and the rest of the world, the only reason he was still alive was because Alec showed up and Q took over his earwigs, drowning out orders left and right in that sweet, dry voice of his which he hated himself for missing so much.

 

He also hated the way his body reacted when Alec touched him, the way he clung to him like he was his life line despite the fact that the man really was just that because he was about to fall from the 41st floor of a building. Still, it wasn’t fitting for someone who was on her Majesty’s payroll to be saved by an enemy or hugged, so the instant James’ feet touched solid ground, he moved away from Alec.

 

“I see the time spent apart from us did nothing to change your mind, tigr.” He suddenly jumped on James, pushing him into the ground, shouting orders in his earwig. “PM is not too happy that you’re not a pool of blood, so you will have to put up with me touching you for a little longer.”

 

“You keep trying to make me switch sides, but that man has nothing to do with this and you know it.” He elbowed Alec and pulled out his gun, managing to get the sniper with a single bullet. “As far as I know, the other three snipers that will start shooting in a few moments are just Q’s pawns.”

 

Alec quickly spotted the snipers James was talking about and helped him dispatch them. A helicopter started flying over them, firing a machine gun at them. The two entered the building and were greeted by more henchmen, Alec swearing up and down that they weren’t working for SPECTRE especially since Q had ordered everyone to keep away from MI6.

 

“How kind of him; remind me to send him a gift basket as thanks for his continuous loyalty,” he spat the last word with all the venom he could muster, his anger distracting him long enough to get shot in the stomach.

 

That was the only reason why Alec managed to push him in a car and why the medic he had with him - “This guy always comes with me when you’re involved, James. We never know how things will turn out with you” - managed to actually stick a syringe in his shoulder with a liquid that made him pass out.

 

He didn’t dream anything, but that was the first decent rest he had ever since his whole world had crashed down around him. He heard Q’s voice, felt his fingers in his hair, on his face and on his back, gently rubbing small circles just the way he liked it when he was too stressed and needed something to calm him down.

 

When he did manage to get an actual grip on reality, he expected to open his eyes and find himself tied to a chair somewhere in a dark and cold basement or dungeon. Instead, he was lying on a comfortable bed, in a well-furnished and well aired room. He wasn’t tied, but the door was locked, there were bars on the windows and an obvious security camera in the corner of the room.

 

A beautiful woman carrying a tray that had divine smelling food on it and a big bottle of Jack Daniels entered the room just as James picked up one of the antique looking chairs and she sent him a sharp smile, her brown eyes narrowed.

 

“Mister Bond, while Number One would forgive your outburst, I would really prefer you do not smash that beautiful chair against the door. You will find out that it is a reinforced door and I trust that a spy of your calibre knows that old wood doesn’t even leave a scratch on something like that.” She actually turned her back to him as she sat the tray carefully down on the table, crossing her hands behind her back as she waited for him to use the chair properly.

 

“I have never been at the other end of a honeypot mission,” James said, giving the woman his best smile. “I must say that it seems to be quite pleasant on this end as well.”

 

She threw her head back, covering her mouth with the back of her palm as she laughed. “You are reading this completely wrong, Mister Bond. I am here just to make sure you eat your food like a good boy and that you don’t do something to tear open your stitches.”

 

As a given, a sharp pain travelled through his body and he cringed, the woman instantly by his side, supporting his weight as he was helped to lie back down in the bed. God knows from where she pulled out a syringe because her outfit was so tight that James could practically see everything, but he had dealt with others who pulled bigger things out of thin air in his life so maybe he should be quite that surprised.

 

James grabbed her hand, growling. “Don’t take this the wrong way love, but I’d rather be conscious when you are in the room.”

 

She carefully cupped his face with her free hand, smiling sweetly at him. “Darling, I care for my life too much to carry out the late Number 1’s dying wish.” She easily freed herself, much to James’ shame. “This is just morphine, as ordered by our beloved overlord.”

 

She gave him the shot and the pain went away almost instantaneously, which meant that all he had to do now was numb the nonphysical kind of feelings. The bottle of Jack Daniels was going to help him with that alongside its brethren, of course. And then he was going to think of a way to escape and bring SPECTRE to its knees while keeping 1 and 2 alive. Maybe lock them in his apartment until all thoughts of world domination or whatever such nonsense left their minds and they came back to their senses.

 

But when he finally looked back at the table, the bottle was gone. “I am sure that there was something a lot more interesting on it,” he muttered, licking his lips.

 

The woman titled her head and smiled, hands clasped in front of her. “And you would have been allowed to empty it if only I hadn’t given you morphine. But you can have water, soda or tea to go with your meal, if you so desire.”

 

He wasn’t in the mood to try and argue with her, nor did he have the required energy. So he ate in silence under her piercing gave, her slender fingers tapping at a phone screen every now and then, probably to let Q know of how he was doing. Again, that shouldn’t have warmed his heart the way it did and he was seriously thinking about visiting the MI6 psychiatrist as soon as he returned to London. _If_ he returned to London.

 

“What are their plans with me?” he asked as soon as the food was gone, carefully watching the old man that appeared in the room to collect the dishes. Figures they’d have a butler; Alec was probably ecstatic about that. Actually, if he thought about it a little, the butler might have been Alec’s idea since he always ranted about wanting one when he was drunk enough.

 

“I am afraid that you represent the private part of their lives and that part is not something I am filled in on. Or interested about, to be honest.” She frowned, tapping the table with one of her well-manicured nails. “I would have preferred it if I hadn’t interacted with you at all.”

 

“And yet here you are, playing nurse to SPECTRE’s enemy instead of killing me just because I used to be your leader’s lover.” Yes, that sounded just as wrong as he had imagined it to be even when said out loud. Perhaps the past few months never happened and he is stuck in a hospital somewhere, his mind in Limbo and taking a sharp left towards Hell.

 

“Well, you said so yourself, Mister Bond. Our leader’s lover. And you really wouldn’t want to disobey and order that’s related to you.” She subtly glanced at the camera, lowering her voice. “You are one of his two weak—“

 

“Thank you, Number 3. You may return to your real duties now and do leave on the desk the name of the Greek island that had caught your eye,” Q’s sharp voice interrupted her and James saw the woman visibly pale, digging her nails in the palm of her hands as she powerwalked out of the room.

 

Q pulled a chair up next to James’ bed and made to grab his hand, but the agent turned with his back to him. “I understand why you’re still upset, James,” Q started to say softly, rubbing the man’s back. “But I was really planning on telling you. I just had to secure my place and help retire the old numbers.” He rested his head against him back, trying to sneak into bed with him, but James pushed him away as hard as is weak body allowed him. “James-”

 

“Shut up. Shut up and get out. Or shut up and kill me, because I will not turn my back on my own country no matter what lies that sinful mouth of yours spews.”

 

He heard Q let out a shaky sigh, but willed himself to sit still and not turn to look at him, not turn and pull him in a hug. He was the lowest kind of human in existence and James refused to fall for his tricks and cheap theatrics. The bastard could poke his eyes out while trying to squeeze out as many tears as possible for all James cared.

 

“I’ll let you get some rest now, but I will come back later to talk,” Q mumbled, tucking James in and brushing his lips against his temples. “Please don’t try to escape; you’ll just reopen your wound and all my doctors are currently busy with my own men.”

 

Q hovered behind James for a moment, probably hoping that the agent’s natural curiosity would get the best of him and ask for more details. But James managed to suppress it and ignored Q completely. However, despite the morphine that was coursing through his body, when Alec came in the room ten minutes later, scolding him for being a prick. Imagine that! The bloody traitor had the gall to scold him for acting coldly towards MI6’s and, by association, his number one enemy, James snapped.

 

He actually managed to pull himself out of the bed and punch him once before his stitches gave out and the floor was covered in his blood, Alec holding him to his chest as he called for help. A medical team was in the room in seconds, Q leaning against the wall looking almost as pale as it, watching him being rolled away.

 

The next time he opened his eyes, he was still in the room, but this time his arms and legs were tied and there was an arm nurse by his side. The woman ignored his words and when he pretended that he was in pain, she checked the machines without as much as taking a step in his direction - clever woman, or rather clever Q; the young man knew his tricks and had probably warned all of the people who came in direct contact with James not to fall for them that easily.

 

Q talked with him the most about all sorts of things, trying to explain how the organization Bond hated with every cell in his body was no longer as it used to be without really saying what they were dealing with. James ignored him, of course. After all, almost every one of the people he had fought in the past saw themselves as a hero.

 

When James tried to press him for more information or trick him into revealing something, anything that MI6 could then use to against them, Q would change the subject. He would start to talk about what was happening in MI6 –he needed to remember to tell R to change the security protocols, although he doubted there was anyone who could keep Q out of their servers – or complain how the agents had started to be even more reckless without him there and how his former branch had already passed their proposed budgets a thousand times.

 

James almost never said anything to him when he talked about that and when he did, it was to insult him. He called him names, compared him to all the traitors from myths and history he could remember, enjoying the look of hurt Q got. He loved the way he instantly retreated in himself, starting to fiddle with whatever gadget he had in his hand, how his voice dropped to a whisper, the warmness in it replaced by uncertainty. And if he continued to be cruel to him – which he always did because that was what his former lover deserved and he admitted to being petty like that – Q would start to stutter and then quickly leave the room.

 

That was a low blow on his part and James was well aware of it. A long time ago, just as they were starting to date, Q had confided in both him and Alec that he sometimes developed a stutter. Not in situations where he had to guide someone, explain how to hack something or when he had to talk about anything in his field. Just when the people he liked – and he had said like _like_ , which James had found so adorable at that moment in time that he actually pulled the grown man in his lap and pinched his cheeks before snogging him, Alec tugging at his tie to get his turn to do the same thing – were being intentionally cruel to him.

 

With Alec, things were a bit different. James still spat venom at him and even tried to break free and attack him, but the man ignored that completely, focusing more on scolding him for acting so mean towards Q. Had he forgotten, Alec asked, when he promised to never make Q stutter? To never make him suffer? To always protect him? He even dared to ask who the real traitor was from them.

 

“Oh, though question there, Alec. Give me a moment to see which one of us, between me and you of course, is a SPECTRE head. Oh wait, that is quite easy: it’s you. And who from the three of us actually owns this? Easy again: my supposedly lover, Q.”

 

And Alec would sigh and rub at his temples, grumbling in Russian about how stubborn and blind James was. “You’re a complete bastard. If he hadn’t taken over it, we’d probably all be dead. The one who’s pulling M’s strings and who was next in line to take over SPECTRE had Q refused to face his legacy, is part of Quantum, you know.”

 

“And Quantum is just another tentacle of yours. You expect me to believe that Q, the one who ‘purged the old numbers’ as your lovely three said, the same one who claims he could do more damage in his pyjamas than all of us agents combined could do in a year even if we are armed to the teeth, can’t control one simple branch of his own organization?” And here was where their conversations usually ended, Alec throwing his hands in the air and storming out while James grinned after him.

 

But this time, Alec managed to keep his calm and managed to get the last word. “Do you even know what Q’s real name is? Why he calls SPECTRE is legacy? Because if you don’t, what sort of a spy are you?”

 

That genuinely got James thinking and the second Q came into his room, hopeful smile on his face, tray of food in his arms, he asked him. “What is your name? Your real name?”

 

Q dropped the tray and instantly paled. “It doesn’t matter. To you, I am Q, your Q.” There was a hint of desperation in those words that hadn’t been there before, not even when he was asking James to give him and Alec a second chance.

 

“You’re not Q to me. You’re a traitor. Now, what is your name?” It was a good thing for Q that James was tied to the bed because he would have charged at him and smacked him against the wall, squeezing his neck as he lifted him from the ground. “Look at it this way: you keep telling to look at the bigger picture, but a little treacherous Russian bird hinted that I might be able to see it if I find your name. So again, what is your bloody real name?”

 

Someone appeared from behind Q to replace the food and alcohol he had spilled and he simply took the bottle of whiskey from the tray and took a shot. “Get the hell out of this room and don’t come unless called,” he snapped at the poor, nameless servant, slamming the door behind him and slumping in the chair that was constantly by James’ side.

 

“I would clap, really. But as you can see, my hands are tied.”

 

He was surprised when Q reached over and started to untie him, sighing. “Blofeld. Quantum Blofeld. I am Blofeld’s first and only child. The air to a literal bloody empire.”

 

You could cut the tension in the room with a knife and James was too shocked to really do anything, so Q used that to his advantage and wrapped his arms around him, hugging him tightly. “I didn’t want this, Bond. I didn’t want SPECTRE; I wanted to be Q, to be the Quartermaster, to change the world for the better and keep it safe. But MI6 is…restricting.”

 

James pushed him away, feeling sick. “So continuing your father’s legacy is the way to do it? Taking over something with the word TERRORIST in its title keeps the world safer? And don’t get me started on Quantum.”

 

Q laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I really should change the name, shouldn’t I? We’re not terrorists, we’re something else entirely. And the Quantum part…” He trailed off, scratching his arms so hard that his skin turned red. “Father created that branch when I was born and named it after me. Or me after it. Think the latter is the truth because he had absolutely no trouble going after me when I turned my back to him and what he wanted to do.”

 

James turned and slapped Q’s hands away from him when he felt them on his back and Alec tackled him and pushed him on the bed, afraid that his former lover might want to actually hit Q. “That is enough! I don’t care if this hurts, but we’re done. You’re done, Bond. As of this moment, you’re dead.”

 

It shouldn’t have hurt him as much as it did when Alec officially declared them over, nor should have his heart almost jumped out of his chest when the word ‘dead’ was thrown into the mix. After all, there had been many occasions in which James found himself at the end of a gun/sword/death ray/tied to a bomb and, although not quite 100% sure that he was going to live, still felt calm and at peace with whatever the outcome might be.

 

He heard Q mutter a plea to Alec not to do it, but it was too late. The man had already pushed a needle in James’ neck and the world was slowly turning dark around him, his legs going out from under him. Alec caught him before he fell face first into the floor and James was filled with complete and utter desolation before he was lost to the darkness.

 

It was really starting to get annoying, passing out so often. But he was grateful that he woke up and that he was still tucked in the comfy bed and not tied to a hard chair somewhere in a cold basement with no windows. His wound had healed enough for him to be able to move and a quick check of the room showed that the camera had been ripped from the ceiling at that someone had forgotten a knife on the table.

 

The door was still locked, but no one poked their head in to see what he wanted so he started to fiddle with the lock because he was done being their ‘guest’. It was surprising to see that it was a simple lock, by Q’s standards at least and James was out of the room and sneaking down the dimly lit hallways, dodging cameras – the security was seriously lacking and James might have been worried if Q and Alec were still his lovers and not enemies – in less than five minutes.

 

He soon found himself facing two set of stairs, one going down, where freedom awaited him if he was quite enough and the other going up. He had no idea what he might find there and he felt like something was calling out to him. Maybe it was some plans for world domination or maybe it was some kind of a new weapon that would make things easier for MI6 and cause SPECTRE a lot of problems; whatever it was, James had to investigate.

 

There was an obvious lack of cameras, motion detectors and security guards, but it became obvious that they weren’t needed the second James’ eyes fell on the door that was only a few meters away from the top of the stairs. It was the type of thing for which banks would pay at enormous amount of money to obtain and impossible for James to break without those nifty gadgets Q always gave him.

 

But just as he was about to give up and run for freedom, a subtle hiss came from the door and James ducked behind a chair. It took another minute before the door actually opened and out came a set of six guards armed to the teeth framing an old woman with a dangerous aura around her despite the fact that she was dressed as a maid and was pushing a cart towards an elevator which James hadn’t noticed.

 

“Mister Trevelyan will be very displeased when he finds out that Lord Quantum didn’t even glance at the food. Not that I too happy about this, mind you and I have a pretty good mind to pull that boy over my knee and give him the spanking he deserved the moment he ran from here.” She had a thick German accent and when she passed the place where James was hiding, he clearly saw the bulge a hidden gun formed on her left side as well as heard the clinking sound that knives made when touched.

 

Well, that explained why he sensed danger when he saw her. She was a bloody assassin. At least her eyesight had left her a bit and the guards seemed more afraid that she’d lash out at them if they stepped out of formation, so no one notice him sneak beyond the door right as it closed.

 

The floor was covered in a soft and warm carpet, something James was grateful for because he had no shoes on. There was also the unmistakable and very familiar hum of working computers somewhere in the background and, as James went deeper and deeper down the proverbial rabbit hole, he could make out someone typing.

 

He poked his head in the only other room that was there and was struck with the intimate and homey feelings it gave. For a second, he thought he had stepped inside _their_ apartment, what with how messy it looked, how much it smelled like the tea Q loved, and the fact that Q himself was standing in front of a bunch of computer screens in an old t-shirt that was way too big for him and a pair of lose boxers, hair sticking out in every direction, mug dangerously close to the edge of the table.

 

“This was the third time today I had to intervene to keep a double oh alive, Alec,” Q said suddenly, throwing his hands up in the air before smashing them against the keyboard, tying something furiously. “They also started to target R because she’s poking her nose into everything and…” He trailed off and stopped typing suddenly, resting his forehead against the keyboard.

 

It was so tempting to glide over there, extend his arms and just start rubbing the tension out of Q’s shoulders, to trail little kisses on his neck, guiding him to the large bed. No, James shook his head, trying to get those thoughts out of his mind. He was thinking like this only because of the room’s atmosphere. And because this was the first time in forever that Q – Quantum, he reminded himself – wasn’t dressed in that awful suit and no ring shone on his finger. Maybe it was also because whatever Alec had injected him with was still in his system?

 

Confusing feelings aside, James noted that he seemed to still act as a Quartermaster, albeit from the shadows. And then there was also the fact that he was talking about keeping a double oh alive and someone targeting R and sounding quite worried for her. And he had gone through a lot of trouble to keep _him_ alive, although it would have been so much easier for SPECTRE if he were dead.

 

“We’ll deal with that after James, I suppose.” His voice faltered when he said his name and James clutched the knife tighter in his pocket, heart starting to beat faster at the prospect of his second doubts being nothing more than wishful thinking. “You can’t just take him back to London, so you will have to drop him off at that Greek friend of his, if you remember him.”

 

“Milos Columbo. Alec owes him three cars so he remembers him for sure,” James spoke up, spooking Q who instantly turned around to face him, backing up against the table. The action bothered James somewhat, since he was still not quite sure what he wanted: did he want Q dead and as far away from him possible, or did he want him in his arms, brushing away all traces of this nightmare?

 

“James, what are you… Ah, the door was embarrassingly easy to open and I think Irma was here not that long ago.” He pulled a little device from under the table and pointed it at James, his grip on what the agent assumed to be the firing mechanism too lax if he really intended to use it. “We were getting ready to send you home, you know.”

 

“So I’ve gathered.” He took a step towards _Quantum_ and the man frowned, flinching as he did so because of his bruises.

 

“Then please return to your room and wait. Now that you are up, which tells me just how much you’ve been abusing sleeping pills if that harmless cocktail knocked you out only for seven hours instead of the 24 my personal doctor assured me of,” he grumbled and shook his head, looking at him in a disappointed and apologetic way, “we will send you to Milos’ island much faster.”

 

James parted his hands and gave Q his best smile. “The let us have our proper goodbyes and please allow me to apologize for what I did to your face. Think of it as the last time we see each other without a clear murderous intent, okay?”

 

Q looked insulted. “Honestly, do you really think I’m going to let you kill me just because I love you? Please, have enough respect for me to remember that I am not Vesper.” He acted unbothered by the knife that flew just past his head and imbedded itself in the wall behind him. “Plus, if I die, you’re going to get killed, Alec’s going to do something stupid and get himself killed and then that awful man will go after R and everyone I care for.”

 

James huffed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “When are you going to drop this act? Just say directly that you want to use me to take down MI6 from the inside because no one has an Oscar on hand to give it to you for how good you’re playing the part of the carrying lover who is misunderstood.”

 

This time, it was Quantum who came near him, tapping the side of his head with the weapon, causing the device to start humming as if it were being charged. “Can you use your head for one second? You told no one that I or Alec is alive so it would be so easy for me to kill you and ‘resurrect’ him in a corner of the world while I pop up in an isolated hospital. The person who is causing me quite a lot of trouble will not be able to reveal who I am without giving up himself, so I could gain control over the situation much easier.”  

 

He wasn’t Quantum Blofeld. He was once again his Q, the MI6 Quartermaster struggling to save his agents.

 

He started to fidget at one point, trying to get his back to crack, letting out little noises in discomfort, James eventually giving in and going to him to rub his back. Q relaxed almost immediately under his touch, moaning when the man found just the right part. He had almost stopped typing but someone must have said something because James saw the tips of his ears go red and saw him refocus on his work.

 

When the double oh agent was safe and sound on a commercial flight and Number Three announced that she was returning to her original mission, Q rested his head next to the keyboard and closed his eyes, muttering something under his breath before falling asleep.

 

He was prone to doing that, James remembering the first time he had walked in on him sleeping in such an uncomfortable position and he snapped as his minions, demanding to know why they would let him put himself through such a thing. Wasn’t it enough, he continued to growl under his breath as he wrestled the spaghetti-like man in his arms so he could put him on a sofa, that he was damaging his back by hunching over almost every work station when he was needed?

 

R later informed him that Q woke up the second someone touched him and that James had been the first person to ever successfully transport the Quartermaster without waking him up. She speculated – since this was going on way before their relationship started – that it was because James was the one person Q trusted even when sleeping. Later they found out that Alec was the second one and the agent had been so about that that he started to walk around the MI6 hallways with the man clutched tightly at his chest until an exasperated Eve asked James to do something before Alec did something stupid and Q was dropped on his head.

 

“You know this is bad for your back,” James whispered, kneeling next to Q and gently poking his nose. “Q, it’s not fitting for enemies to carry each other in their arms, so I refuse to do so.” But Q was in his arms even before he finished saying that and he closed his eyes, burying his nose in the soft, brown hair, taking in a deep breath. “Okay, maybe just this once.”

 

It was okay to admit that he had missed his smell and that he was partially bothered that he couldn’t smell himself on him anymore. It was just Alec and Q’s smells mixed together, inviting, teasing, promising soft touches, meaningful hugs and kisses and safety.

 

He almost dropped him when he felt that, confused beyond all reason. He felt like he needed a good drink of twenty, but before he started to raid Q’s and Alec’s - and possibly his - room, he made sure to carefully tuck Q in the bed, catching himself before he could brush his lips against the side of his head - his heart did skip a beat when the man muttered his name and move closer to him, but he managed to pull himself away before whatever was left of his resolve disappeared and got into bed with him.

 

There was a mini bar hidden on the left side of the room stocked with various types of vodka bottles that were almost completely empty and whiskey bottles that hadn’t been touched, a lone box of Q’s favourite tea hidden behind all of them. James snorted, amused by the idea that even with so much money and power, there were times when Q ran out of his life elixir and Alec was forced to resort to all sort of tricks to keep their - no, his; Alec had said they were done - lover happy, energetic and not grumpy or pouting behind an empty mug.

 

He forgot about the alcohol when his eyes landed on a frame on the other side of the room and he was holding it in a manner of seconds, glaring at it. It was their first picture of them as a couple, snapped in the middle of a mission. Q was dressed in one of his dark green sweaters, holding a hot dog away from Alec who was dressed in his favourite casual clothes while James was sitting on his tiptoes and biting the coveted product, getting mustard over his favourite suite.

 

It was a cute picture, the type that many would kill for, as long as you didn’t take into consideration exactly why it had been taken. The photographer was a henchman who had recognized the three as MI6 workers and took the picture so the others knew who their targets were.

 

After the assassin was dealt with - the silent clown which baffled Q because he could have taken on the role of a mime, but whatever - Q smuggled the picture home and hid it in their shared dresser where Alec found it a couple of weeks later and for which James bought a cute frame right in the middle of a mission. It had ended up on their nightstand as soon as James recovered enough to be allowed to return home which made Q very happy - but it still didn’t save him from being scolded for literally getting shot three times in the ass.

 

It was also the first thing he threw when he found out about Q and Alec. Sent it flying right out the window and didn’t even bother to see where it landed. In all honestly, he was expecting Eve or Bill to shout at him for getting a new fine from the building’s administrator or for someone to show up with a lawyer at his door and sue him for physical harm.

 

The doors were kicked open and Alec stormed into the room, gasping for breath. "James’ not in his room and I have– Q?” He stumbled further into the room, scared about how Q was hanging half off the bed, completely missing where James was perched up on a chair in the room.

 

That was something normal when the young man was under a lot of stress and one of the main reasons why Q always slept sandwiched between them – the other one being that they liked to have their legs thrown over him, necks buried in his neck and feel him up against their bodies – but James realized Alec was panicked that Q might have been killed so his mind wasn’t working properly.

 

“The security you two have here is crap,” James said after Alec took Q’s pulse and calmed down somewhat. “When he heard someone enter, he instantly assumed that it was you so he didn’t even turn around to check. I could have killed him a thousand times in a thousand ways by the time he realized it wasn’t you in the room.”

 

Alec moved in front of Q, hand hovering where his gun was. “James, please don’t force me to do something that I will mourn for the rest of my life.”

 

“What? Increase the bloody security?” He poured himself a glass of whiskey, slumping in Q’s chair. “What the hell am I supposed to do, Alec? How am I supposed to react to all of this? Betray everyone I know and throw myself blindly into this? Jump for joy that one of my two lovers is the son of my enemy?” A thought just struck him and he clutched the glass tighter, eyes slowly focusing on Q. “Oh my god, how old is he really? Wait, how old was Stavro?”

 

“James, calm down,” Alec said, patting his back and taking a seat next to him. “Stavro had him when he was 16, so you’re safe. Q just _looks_ underage, but he’s thirty-one.”

 

“Well thank God he didn’t lie about his age. He lied about everything else, but not his bloody age. I shall drink in the name of little miracles,” James grumbled in his drink and ended up almost swallowing the glass when Alec smacked him upside the head.

 

Alec pushed his hand against James’ wound to keep him from attacking, checking on Q to be sure that the man was still asleep. “You know he ended up branded with that bloody number to save my ass when M ordered him to abandon me in the middle of the field? Sure, I knew about that even before Q did, but does it make it better?”

 

“Why didn’t you tell me? I could have been your unofficial backup.”

 

“So we could have both died? Great idea, James. I am pretty sure Q would have burned the world to a crisp if that happened.” He moved away from James, yawning. “There’s a chopper waiting for you and no one’s going to attack you unless you do anything stupid.” He wrapped himself around Q, clapping to turn off the lights. “I’m sure you can find the exit on your own.”

 

The darkness combined with the sound of the two men breathing and the safety of that sound helped James finally make up his mind. He crawled in the bed and tangled his fingers in Q’s hair, scratching his scalp and muttering his name until he was staring down at two very tired and slightly annoyed green eyes.

 

“I’m sure it’s an ungodly hour, James. And if either one of you silenced my phone _again_ and avoided waking me up until the very last possible moment and I end up having to equip any one of the agents in my pyjamas, I am really going to give you two nothing else besides peashooters,” Q whined, clearly confused.

 

He was so adorable and he sounded so defenceless that James threw his metaphorical hands up in the air and pulled the half asleep man in his arms and proceeded to kiss Q senselessly, sticking his foot in Alec’s face before the man could pull a gun on him.

 

And it felt so right, having Q in his arms, moaning in his mouth, returning the kiss. It was the first time James had felt alive in months. They eventually broke apart because they needed air and strong hands pulled him forward, over Q, Alec practically biting his lips off before giving him a rough kiss.

 

He would have loved to get lost in them, to get reacquainted with their bodies and to silence the voice in his mind that screamed at him for what he was doing. But he had to go back to MI6. He had to be sure that his choice was the right one and that no one would be used against him or his lovers.

 

Q seemed to understand although James wasn’t 100% sure as the man just rested his head on his shoulder after nodding and immediately started to snore. Alec, on the other hand, couldn’t wrap his mind around James’ need to be in London and was beyond pissed off. Honestly, if it wasn’t for Q throwing his legs across his stomach, he would have punched all the teeth out of James’ mouth.

 

“And I suppose you’re doing this for _England_ , James?” Alec whispered low, his accent making itself known for the first time in ears, proving just how done he was with everything.

 

“For us, Alec. I am doing this for us.” He put his hands on the man’s shoulders and gave him a small kiss which was something very unusual for him when it came for Alec. “I know you two will keep an eye on me and you’ll know what needs to be done and when.”

 

Alec still wasn’t happy, but kept silent. James stole another kiss from Q, left another mark on Alec’s neck and then quietly exited the room, bumping into a very unhappy Irma. He winked at her and her fingers twitched, clearly wishing for nothing more than to test out the sharpness of her knife or the power of her gun on him.

 

The second he stepped foot on British soil, he was dispatched on a mission. But he was still weak, MI6 was in chaos because of the increase rate of dates in the double oh department due to the faulty information R kept receiving and James was hospitalized almost as fast as he had gone one the missions.

 

He didn’t need to be presented with a laptop in the middle of the night by a nurse that looked she was at ease dispatching people instead of carrying for them to know that he was in trouble with both of his agents for getting taken off the active duty list in such a painful and worrying way.

 

And Q looked horrible, with huge bags under his eyes, skin so pale that he practically blended in with the white background. James couldn’t help but brush his hand against the screen, wanting nothing more than to pull him in bed with him and order and IV.

 

“ _Don’t even start, James. Alec is already nagging me about it enough as it is_ ,” he said in a dry tone, eyes narrowed. “ _I will tell you the same thing I told him: I will rest when I purge the world of Quantum and the people who have a similar mind-set as those who are a part of it or when I am dead_.”

 

James clicked his tongue, his mood changing for the worse. “I would prefer it if the latter wasn’t even an option.”

 

“ _As would I, James, as would I.”_ He punched the bridge of his nose and leaned into Alec’s hand that had appeared in the frame, smiling a bit. “ _Well, you are sort of safe now so let’s deal with R._ ”

 

Unable to equip her agents with proper weapons or even get the right intelligence reports, she started to lose double oh agents one after another and Bill managed to convince the Prime Minister – who was more invested in MI6 then he should have been – to let allow her to take a short vacation.

 

MI6 got yet another new Quartermaster when it was reported that was supposed to fly her to Hawaii got shot down by stray missiles – lies, Q assured James, trying to keep his eye from twitching when a very drunken and shocked R stepped in front of the camera to pinch his cheeks just to be sure that she wasn’t dreaming.

 

“That is not how things work,” Alec’s voice came from the background. “You’re supposed to pinch yourself while I pinch his backside—“

 

“ _On the bloody helicopter pad, do you hear me_?” Q threatened and in the blink of an eye, R was no longer near him and Alec was wrapped around him, nuzzling his neck in an apologetic way.

 

The next person who met her end during an unfortunate event was Eve. Her car got totalled in an accident on the eve of Q’s death and the official police statement said that there were high traces of alcohol found in her blood. Q assured James that she was actually somewhere in Florida under the guise of a rookie CIA agent. She didn’t know what was going on except that there was someone that wanted her dead and it was best for her to keep quiet and play her part until it was safe.

 

“ _You’re going to get killed_.” Not the way James pictured the video chat was going to go especially since Q was obviously naked under the bathrobe and Alec was nuzzling his lap, fingers slowly sneaking up his tights, under the flimsy piece of cloth.

 

“I am never going to complain about bad news if this is the way you deliver all of them in this manner, Q.” He licked his lips and started to fiddle with his tie, grinning. “But, Alec, if you could get rid of both yours and his clothes so I could enjoy the last moments of my life?”

 

Of course Alec was naked in a second, but when he dived for the bathrobe’s belt, Q jumped on his feet, taking the laptop with him, looking anything but amused. “ _This is serious, so I am going to ask the both of you to pay attention for once in your overactive lives._ ”

 

“ _In my defence, from where I am standing and the view I have, I might have a really hard time doing that, moya luna.”_

After a playful slap from Alec which earned him a glare as well as a foot pressed up against his face to push him away as well as after Q started to explain what he his plan actually was, James was starting to get a headache and regret ever leaving his side.

 

Q suspected that his hand would be forced with James. He speculated that on the next mission the agent would be sent on – because, despite the fact that the security protocols had been changed the second R was declared dead, he still sneaked in and peeked at the things that interested him – would be a trap, one meant to lure Q out of hiding.

 

Q would pretend to have taken the bait and come to whatever warehouse or expensive villa James would be held captive and practically present his own head on a silver platter. Alec was expected to play dead as well so that the main puppet master would be blind to what was really going to happen – aka Alec would snipe him from a distance and be done with him once and for all.

 

After that, it was up to James what he wanted to do. If he wanted to play dead and jump ships, Q was more than ready and willing to help him join the SPECTRE ranks and prepare a dummy body. But if his heart belonged more to MI6 than to them, then he was free to remain there although they would never meet again, face to face or otherwise.

 

“Or you could let me kill this mysterious man directly, Q.” James said after his younger lover was done talking, his face mirroring Alec’s in how sour it was.

 

“ _I do not actually want to let you be used as bait—“_

“That is not the part I have problems with, love,” James interrupted him, taking out his gun and starting to dismantle it to calm himself down. “I am bothered that you’re using yourself as bait. Alec, you’re there; talk some sense into him or lock him up in his room until we deal with everything.”

 

He heard Alec snort and licked his lips when he saw the man starting to nibble on Q’s neck, drawing out all sort of needy noises from the man. “ _As if I didn’t try everything from tying him to the bed and fucking him until he couldn’t walk properly to bribing Irma and R into locking down the mansion. But you know our Q is a genius with an unlimited energy supply, so while I was recovering from our strenuous and very pleasant activities, he was unlocking everything.”_

 

It really seemed that James was going to get treated to a nice little round of virtual sex, but just as he got more comfortable, Q pushed Alec off of him and arranged his bathrobe. “ _Then it is settled. We’re going to do things my way_.”

 

Things did not go according to plan. Actually, things went anyhow except according to plan and it was a complete disaster. Alec’s supposed hunting accident did end with him shot for real – not deadly, but he was still unable to play his sniper role. James had also been properly tied and his leg bones broken, but not killed because the head of Quantum was a sadist who wanted everyone to suffer.

 

And James suffered a lot, forced to watch Q slowly bleed out a few meters away from him, gasping for breath as the psychopathic bastard was laughing at the state he was in and insulting everything from what he ate to how horribly wrong his plan went.

 

“Did you really think that you could outsmart me? The person your father personally groomed and taught everything he knew?” He kicked Q and stepped on his hand, grabbing him by the hair and pulling his head back so he could whisper in your ear. “I was supposed to be your Number Two, not that mongrel.”

 

“Father and I never really saw eye to eye,” Q wheezed out, managing to sound imposing despite the blood that was coming out of his mouth. “He never really saw the big picture and that is why he kept you on. He even insulted my name by putting you in charge of the Quantum branch.”

 

There were times when James really wished Q would learn to keep his mouth shut. And this was one of those times. He struggled as hard as he could, cussing and promising painful methods of death. He got his nose broken with the butt of the gun when the man – who was not the prime minister himself; he held a lower position in the actual government, but he was his real superior due to Quantum and pulled his strings when he saw it fit – had enough of his babbling.

 

But of course, what really hurt him was the way Q smiled sadly at him. “Sorry things turned out like this, James. I guess I should have gotten rid of all the men and women that were loyal to father.”

 

“I really pictured you dying by old age, not shot by someone who should be dying by old age instead of playing with guns.” If Q was going to die, then James wanted to be sure he had a smile on his face.

 

“This is all very touching,” the man said in a disgusted voice, reloading his gun. “I’ll make sure to bury the slut and MI6 dogs together after I deal with the mong—“

 

The door was kicked open and the man fell dead on the ground, a few inches away from Q’s face, Eve leaning against the wall. She looked like she was ready to empty that was left of her gun clip in both of them and she needed a moment to gather her thoughts before she exploded.

 

“You two, not three, are the biggest idiots I have ever seen!” She stepped away and let Q’s medical team enter, R right behind them. “Do you know how much I spent on the dresses I bought for all of your bloody funerals?” She hit James upside the head because she will forever have a soft spot for Q. “I should kill you all for how miserable you made me. And don’t get me started on the heart attack I had when R, who was supposed to be dead, showed up at my door.”

 

“Honestly, I’d like to get you to stop,” James grumbled, winking at Q who was already too far gone because of the morphine being pumped into him to notice what was going on.

 

She cocked her gun, but R managed to wrestle out of her hands and keep her back long enough for both men to be rolled into the chopper and flown to safety. She was going to stay behind and provide Eve and the other double oh agents that had sworn their loyalty to Q with support until they dealt with every Quantum member that was hiding in the villa – she had asked the agents to simply catch them, but they knew Q was out for their lives, so they executed them.

 

Q was sure to feel proud of R when his wits returned to him and he found out that it had been her who poked her nose around and discovered what he was up to. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust her plan, but she decided that it would be for the best if they had a backup just in case everything went tits up.

 

“Which is exactly what happened,” Eve intervened, smacking James upside the head again.

 

“I am not the one who came up with the plan,” he all but whined at her. “Everything was Q’s idea which is why I expected, and hoped, it would go without a hitch.”

 

“Yes, but you and Alec were involved so of course it wasn’t to go according to plan.” She focused on Q and started to gently pat his head, cooing at him when he announced that he had all of his teeth as well and grinned at her to show them. “And would you rather I hit him instead of you?”

 

“Touch him and I’ll throw all of your shoes in the ocean.”

 

Eve and R decided to go back to MI6, just to be sure that there was someone in the world who could stop them in case all the power went to their head and they decided that taking over the world was the good thing to do. What they didn’t know was that the people who replaced the corrupted government officials had been personally picked by Q, the man explaining to James that it would be better for everyone in the long run if they kept a close watch on how the country was ran.

 

“I am not going to tell them what to do,” he was explaining to James, tilting his head to the left to give Alec better access to his neck. “Trying to control the two of you is work, ah, enough for me.”

 

Of course Alec had pushed him in the bed and he was trailing kisses down his back, shirt magically disappearing. He stopped and pulled back when he saw the bandages, scratching his face furiously. “I should have checked the bullets myself before we went hunting. And it was so obvious that the woman had something against me.”

 

Q had crawled next to James, managing to wrap around him without touching the contraption that was holding his legs suspended or cause himself harm. “We’re all _mostly_ all right, so instead of focusing on things you can’t change how about you do something more pleasant such as me?”

 

“Or,” James said with a grin on his face, tilting Q’s head back and biting down on the only place left unmarked on his neck, hand moving slowly down his back. “You can go in a corner and sulk while I work twice as hard to ensure that our little treasure doesn’t feel anything but pleasure.”

 

He leaned his head up to kiss Q, but he ended up kissing Alec’s palm, the man pushing his head down and to the side, glaring at him. “Are you leaving us when your legs get better or did you realize who really is worthy of your loyalty?”

 

James needed a moment to think about the answer, but no more than that. He realized that his mind was no longer filled with the voices of all the people who he had once trusted and betrayed him. And it was so good not to hear them whisper in his thoughts ideas of how he was never going to find someone who would not end up stabbing him in his back.

 

He also could turn his back to them without hesitating which was important because it meant that there was no subconscious fear of getting attacked. Q and Alec, on the other hand, never had problems showing him their backs, as if knowing that on a very deep level, James would never truly attack them or cause them any harm.

 

“Well?” Q asked again, lightly tapping his temple to get his attention. “Should I move you back to your room and burn all the clothes in your size or not?”

 

James gently grabbed Q’s hand and turned it so he could kiss his wrist, other hand firmly grabbing Alec’s ass. “You don’t have to burn them to see me walk around naked. All you have to do is ask nicely and maybe set an example for me to follow?”

 

He couldn’t help but chuckled at how narrowed Alec’s eyes was, clearly not understanding the answer. Q was also confused or, more accurately, uncertain. But he looked cute, kind of like a giant cat, with his head tilted to the side and his fingers drawing little circles on James’ naked chest while those gears that made up his brain probably turned a million times a second.

 

“If your offer is still on the table, then I am staying,” James said evenly and Q actually bounced a little on his lap, flinching when his body reminded him that he had recently been shot. “I am also heavily suggesting that you start walking around completely naked. Although, if you do that and your minions, henchmen, followers—”

 

“He calls them employees, but I like to think of them as vassals,” Alec interrupted, already busying himself with undoing the man’s pants, eyes twinkling with mischief. “But yes, I agree with you poking their eyes out if they even so much as glance at him without his clothes on. That’s for our eyes only.”

 

James nodded and started to slowly drag his nails down Alec’s back. “I am happy to see that we are on the same page again, Alec.”

 

“I am so done with you two it’s not even funny,” Q groaned, trying to roll away from them only to get gently pushed against James’ chest, Alec trailing kisses down his back. “Okay, maybe I will overlook how completely irrational you two are just this once.”

 


	2. Something sweeter than revenge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A sweet anon asked for: "When James lets him fall to his death during the Goldeneye operation Alec swore to let his lover pay dearly for his betrayal. Willing to take from James who he values the most Alec goes after Q. However, what he hasn´t anticipated was that he –despite his best intentions- becomes attracted to the witty and clever boffin. Will Q turn out to be the missing link which brings them back together?"
> 
> Title was suggested by darling thundernight :)
> 
> Please forgive any and all mistakes, especially since half of it was written when I had a fever :S

James had wounded him again. True, this time had been a fight to the death with no limpet mines to detonate earlier than expected, but it still irked Alec. Not that he would have spared Bond if he had been the one hanging from the ladder - or maybe he would have; break his legs and arms and lock him in a change until he understood that England and MI6 weren’t worth his annoyingly blind loyalty.

 

He was surprised when he survived the fall, braced himself when he saw the flaming debris coming towards him, silently asking whatever deities reigned over humanity why England insisted on taking everything from him. It took his freedom even before he was born, his father’s sanity, his father’s life as well as his mother’s and then his future by turning him into a killing machine. It even took his only friend from his side – although he was forced to admit that the way things were ending were partially Alec’s fault.

 

He hit the ground with his fist, screeching in pain, moment in which he realized that he wasn’t dead. By some miracle, the debris had fallen around him and created a bunker, protecting him from a fiery and very painful death as well as spearing him from getting even more disfigured than he already was.

 

That had him laughing like a maniac – which actually aided the few loyal bodyguards that had escaped with their lives to find him –because, just like the last time he supposedly died, James hadn’t bothered to check if he was dead and simply fucked off with that week’s bed warmer.

 

What an ungrateful bastard, Alec thought to himself as his personal doctors stuffed him full of morphine and rushed to get him inside the private hospital. Always picking casual sex with someone he’d forget in two weeks over their meaningful relationship. And was a stupid man he had been, marginally trying to spare James’ life and offer him another chance when he should have simply put a bullet through his skull and rid himself of the nuisance.

 

Well, things would be different from now on. He’ll dedicate what was left of his fortune - his many Swiss bank accounts still unfound by the pathetic MI6 computer techs – to ruining James’ frivolous life.

 

As he focused on trying to get rid of the limp that darling James had gifted him by kicking him off the antenna, he spread his invisible tentacles around MI6, injecting a few people with his poison and money. How else was he going to know about what the man was doing or rather, who he was doing?

 

Most of the times, Alec wasn’t even done looking at the pictures of the man’s latest conquest because the relationship was already over. James was excellent at ruining everything that was good for him and foiling Alec’s plans without realizing it. It was funny how often the man fell in love with them – twice a week around the anniversary of Alec’s supposed second death – and how fast that supposedly deep sentiment simply evaporated from James’ heart.

 

But other times, James actually tried his best – and that enraged Alec the most; still hoping for a normal, boring life? Still actually offering your heart to someone who would not cover you in bed when you are too tired to pull the blankets over you? A few smiles thrown in their way alongside with extra attention – because your main love is still England, isn’t it James? She still holds your heart, even though she had shown you over and over again how much of a harlot she is and how easily she’d drop anyone to save her skin.

 

Yet even when James did his best, he still ended up getting dumped. And really, killing James’ exes wasn’t that much fun, especially since he’d end up with an enraged agent coming after him instead of one crying to the heavens before begging to be killed – because Alec would make sure to point out to him that it was his presence in the woman’s life that killed her.

 

For a few months, James spent nights in all sort of motels with people whose names he didn’t know and then he died in Turkey, only not really. Alec sent for someone to save him and nurse him back to health, enjoying the emptiness he saw in those blue eyes he once cared for. Had the man finally realized that all those people that loved him and he sacrificed in order to protect England had been for nothing?

 

M had ordered him to abandon yet another double oh James claimed to be his friend and then ordered someone to shoot him just so she could protect MI6. If that wasn’t an eye opener, then Alec didn’t know what was.

 

And for a while, James seemed satisfied to waste his life hidden away, slowly starting to care for the woman that Alec had prepared to stab him in the heart the moment James declared his love for her – not with an actual knife; James would simply walk in on his ‘beloved’ and Alec lost in the throes of passion.

 

But then MI6 had to get attacked and James, just like the stupid dog he was, ran to its aid. At least the bitch that had dared to act like a mother figure to Alec died in James’ arms, further shattering his heart.

 

“Stupid, stupid man… Crying over someone who didn’t have to think twice before ordering you to get shot? You have bigger mother issues than I do.” He groaned and rubbed his face, throwing the laptop against the wall.

 

He drank that night because he was happy that she was dead, not because he wanted to numb that tiny part in him that wanted to cry over her. She had used him and everyone else around her and her hands were a deeper shade of red than his. She deserved to die, killed by one of her own ‘children’ and Alec wished that he could have been there to throw everything bad she had done in her face, not to hug her like James had probably done.

 

Only after his men sobered him up from his three day celebration of M’s demise did something click in his brain. In the video of the Silva aftermath at Skyfall, he noticed that James had sat quietly on the side lines and allowed Medical to fix his wounds. But that wasn’t what caught his eye, strange as it was to see his former friend receive that kind of care without being tied up or ordered to. No, it was the moving scarecrow with a bird’s nest for hair that was quietly sitting next to him, their shoulders touching.

 

“ _I am sorry,”_ the man said in a posh voice. _“I should have found a way to give you more and better tech—“_

 

Alec’s heart skipped a beat and his head started pounding when he saw James suddenly grab the willowy man’s hand. “ _You did everything that was humanly possible given the position my request put you in.”_ The last time James had sounded this serious was when they first met by Stalin’s statue. “ _I am happy I put my trust in you, Quartermaster_.” And James gave him a sincere smile, the man snorting and shaking his head.

 

The rest was covered by what was left of Skyfall manor collapsing in on itself, not that Alec would have been able to focus on anything else. Quartermaster? That equivalent of a high school student was MI6’s new technician and security advisor? That moron Boris had been older than him! And dressed better, that was for sure.

 

But it wasn’t the horrible cardigan that made his blood boil. It was the fact that James bloody Bond was relaxed. It was the fact that he thanked the Quartermaster. That he smiled at him and that his body language made his trust in him clear.

 

“Who the fuck is this brat?” He roared and his men flinched, quickly moving out of sight when the first screen was broken. “How is it possible for Bond to have someone this close to him without me knowing? Why the fuck am I paying those incompetent nerds so much money?”

 

After he managed to calm himself down by completely trashing the office, he ordered his personal assistant to contact all his MI6 moles. But instead of terrified faces on the computer screen and shaky voices that pleaded for their lives coming out of the speakers, he was greeted by a prerecording of the child Quartermaster.

 

“ _The only type of mole I like is from the Soricomorpha class.”_ His accent was so posh that Alec could easily picture him with a top hat and a monocle. “ _All other types end up in the modern version of the Tower_.” He flashed a sharp grin at the camera, tilting his head to the right, green eyes filling with malice. “ _Thank you for being such a simpleton that you actually got this far in this little tracking—_ “

 

Alec grabbed the screen and threw it against the wall, his own technicians quickly cutting off the feed. But their terrified faces told Alec that it was too late and that the bloody, snot nosed, spot covered, colour blind _infant_ had managed to track them down.

 

“Clean everything and make it look like we worked with Silva.” He grabbed the head of his technicians and gave him a good shake, sneering at him. “And make sure that no one leaves any kind of trace of what I’m really interested in for that jailbait to find, or else.”

 

***

 

Alec couldn’t believe how disgustingly loyal MI6 had suddenly become. It took him three months to find someone who was willing to supply him info about the new Quartermaster and James Bond. And it would be just his luck that his new employee constantly reminded him of Boris with his pen twirling and view of women. He was one Hawaiian shirt and Russian accent away from getting a bullet lodged between his eyes.

 

He also liked to complain about his Quartermaster. A lot. But at least, by doing that, he gave Alec just what he wanted. He considered the young man to be a know-it-all that stole the position that rightly belonged to him. And he hated, just hated, the way James Bond had made himself at home in the natural habitat of boffins.

 

“The old Quartermaster wouldn’t have allowed this, you know,” he grumbled in his glass of expensive wine. “If he knew that 007, out of all agents, casually strolls in my branch every day, he would start rolling in his grave.” He put his glass down with a little too much force, cracking its stem.

 

Alec seriously debated grabbing the glass and smashing it over the man’s head. The next time they met, he’ll make sure to give him a plastic cup. “I imagine that is must be really hard for your female colleagues to focus on their work?”

 

“Since we are talking about James Bond and,” he looked around and leaned close to Alec, snickering, “and since the only good thing this Q did was bring a lot of young people in, if you know what I mean,” he winked and Alec wanted so badly to inform him about how much he wished to end his life “you would think that’s to be the case. But he doesn’t pay attention to anyone but Q.”

 

Alec almost spat his drink all over the man. “Isn’t it confusing to have two people using the letter ‘Q’?” James had stopped showing interest in the same sex after Alec had died for the first time – there was a part of Alec that wanted to believe that was because he had been his lover at that time and it didn’t seem right with anyone but him.

 

“No, the Quartermaster is the only one allowed to have that letter. Bond seems...” He trailed off, licking his lips. “I would tell you more, but I am not sure if I should. I mean, I also have lots of pictures of the two and videos, but my conscience won’t let me.”

 

Alec pulled out his money clip and took out five bills. “Something extra than what I already wired in your bank account to silence that little voice in your head.” He grabbed his hand and pulled him close, snarling at him. “And I suggest you find this satisfactory or else a bullet will keep your so called conscience company.”

 

The man paled a bit and started to shake, needing a few attempts to actually reach into his pocket and pull the USB sticks he had. He said that everyone knew the agent was interested in Q, even going as far as growling at whoever showed the man too much interest. He spent his down time hovering behind Q, brushing against him, whispering in his ear, feeding him and making him tea.

 

“People even have bets on when they finally get together, b-but I think that already happened,” he stuttered, emptying his wine glass in a single gulp. “I saw them kiss on multiple occasions and Bond came dressed in the same suit as the day before a few times which makes me think that he spent the night in the Quartermaster’s flat.”

 

Alec clutched his glass so hard that it shattered in his hand. If James already slept with the man, but he was still hanging around him, it meant that it was serious. And while he had lost his eyes in MI6, the ones he had all over London had informed him that they hadn’t seen James in his usual bars or with women glued to his sides since the Skyfall incident.

 

“I could be wrong,” the boffin said quickly, fearful eyes looking at Alec’s bloody hand. “I mean even 007 has a limited numbers of suits and—“

 

“He would never wear the same one twice in a row.” He grabbed the towel that one of his bodyguards brought him and wrapped it around his bleeding hand. “Tell me, does the Quartermaster treat him better than the other double oh agents? And keep in mind that honesty will bring you more money while lying to me will result in your death.”

 

The boffin thought for a moment, the way his eyes widened slightly telling Alec everything even before the man opened his mouth. “Yes. He helped him go off the grid in two missions so far, gives him all the new gadgets he makes and he sounds warmer when he talks with the agent over the coms. Even flirts back, which he never does with the others.”

 

So James Bond was in love and his feelings were returned. How disgustingly sweet and deviously perfect. If he took this one from James, the man might lose his mind to the pain of being betrayed by yet another person he trusted with his heart. Maybe so much so that he would either run in Alec’s arms or to pull his favourite gun from his coat and rid himself of the treacherous Quartermaster.

 

Alec devoured the pictures and videos that he had been provided with, snarling at how careful James acted around the so called Q. He always had a smile for him, always winked at him, and always rested his hand on the man’s lower back. He listened to whatever the man was muttering about with pure adoration in his eyes, arm around him as he pointed to whatever gadget he wanted the boffin to explain to him.

 

Their kisses were innocent. _Innocent_! James did not do innocent kisses! He was a beast, a creature that demanded everything from the other person and practically devoured them when they offered themselves to him. He was a monster, just like Alec and that was the reason why they were perfect together. Q…Q was just a phase that would hurt James beyond anything else and that would leave him feeling even emptier on the inside than he already was.

 

“ _James, we’re in the middle of my branch. Stop that_ ,” Q whined in one of the videos, not actually pushing the agent away.

 

You couldn’t hear James’ reply, but the video had been captured allowed Alec to read his lips just fine. _“Well, I can’t help it if it is lunch time and I want to have my favourite thing it the world. And I know you crave the same thing.”_

 

The video ended after Q touched their lips for a second before moving away from him, James turning around to glare directly at the camera as if he was demanding to know why the man was foolish enough to still look at them when the rest of the branch was smart enough to pretend that nothing was going on.

 

Alec was frankly surprised that James hadn’t throttled the man by now, but he assumed that it had been Q who had held him back. There had been a video where James was openly growling at another double oh because he had dared to ask Q out for lunch. He had hoped to see a fight breaking out, but Q placed himself between the two, one hand resting on James’ shoulder and ordered both of them out of his branch.

 

“ _Children aren’t allowed in here_ ,” Q added when James tried to say something. “ _As such, until you act like the mature adults you claimed to be, you can both have Miss Moneypenny as your babysitter_.”

 

Alec couldn’t hold back the laugh when he heard James grumble that the other double oh agent started it, Q rolling his green eyes and shaking his head. Okay, he could understand why the boffin interested James. It was true that he was smug, but he was so smart that it seemed only normal for him to be like that - Alec’s technicians were still trying to replicate the program which Q had used to track them down so fast all those months ago.

 

Alec also realized that Q was quite pleasing to the eye. James looked very interested in running his hands through his hair – Q always dodged just in time, muttering something only for the agent’s ears that had the man give him his million dollar smile – so Alec couldn’t help but wonder how soft it was and what it smelled like.

 

Q’s green eyes were also captivating and addictive to look at. They shone with intelligence, patience and care even when the clock behind him showed that it was three in the morning and he was still working on something, James nodding off in an uncomfortable chair right next to him.

 

The clear showing of affections had Alec change his original plan of shooting James’ lover right in front of his eyes after having them moan in pleasure under him. He would make sure the betrayal stung so much that it _James_ himself would be the one to end Q’s life.

 

“I can’t wait to see you shoot him, James,” Alec whispered, brushing his hand against the man’s pixelated face. “I want to see you cry, truly cry, over his dead body. Maybe then you’ll understand why MI6 is the true evil organization and how I felt when you left me for dead that first time.”

 

***

 

Q was good at giving the men that were watching him the slip, although he wasn’t exactly aware of what he was doing. It was easier to follow him when James wasn’t around, the agent still acting like one even when he was in his down time, but he was still a pain in arse. One moment he was standing right in front of his stalkers and then in the next, he was gone. Even Alec had a hard time following him around, until he managed to draw a vague sketch of his daily routine with and without James, still ending up with quite huge blanks in it.

 

However, it was better than nothing and it did allow Alec to observe how he behaved when he wasn’t surrounded by the boffins he lovingly called his minions or by the computers that didn’t seem to offer him any sort of real challenge.

 

It turned out that Q was a complete airhead when he wasn’t running his branch. He looked at the world around him with a sort of wonder that only children had, often stopping next to something to analyse it from every possible angle before taking out his phone and starting to doodle something on it.

 

One time he plopped himself down on a bench in the tiny park that was a few streets away from where Alec assumed he was living and fiddled with his phone for hours on end. And when James sat next to him and switched his phone for a hot cup of tea, he looked completely baffled by the man’s presence there and by the lack of natural light around him.

 

Alec had a hard time trying not to smash his computer as he watched James carefully drape his own jacket around the young man, lovingly chiding him for forgetting himself again. He took his glasses off Q’s face so he could rub his eyes without breaking them and then slowly guided him to his apartment where he spent the night.

 

On a separate occasion, Q actually walked into a lamppost and when he met with James a few hours later, the agent flipped, thinking that his lover had been attacked. Alec’s insides turned when he noticed how careful James had been when he put his hands on Q’s face and tilted his head back to get a better look at the bruise.

 

“ _James, you can’t beat up a lamppost and you know I can defend myself if I’m attacked_ ,” Q said slowly, eyes closed as he enjoyed the little kisses placed all over his face.

 

Satisfied that he kissed everything better, he linked their arms together. “ _What were you working on this time?”_

 

Q hummed and dug out his phone, happily starting to yap about something Alec couldn’t understand, but that had his own version of Q branch teeming with excitement. They said that the man’s idea was brilliant and hard to accomplish, asking if there was a possibility for them to take a peek at his sketches and see exactly how he planned on doing that.

 

The stupidity of the people on his payroll aside, Q being like that was absolutely perfect. His mole informed him that James was up scheduled to go on a mission in two days which Alec could make much harder than it was originally planned and while the agent was busy being a complete moron in the name England, Alec was free to be Q’s white knight.

 

Four hours after James left the country, Q had managed to get himself stuck in a tree because he had tried to save a cat. The MI6 Quartermaster, the man who tracked Alec’s location in less than two minutes and made it practically impossible to hack the MI6 sever, the same man who had a cult following both in MI6 and among Alec’s own nerds, got stuck in a tree because of a cat.

 

Well, if the opportunity presented itself, Alec wasn’t dumb enough to ignore it. “I know I am not accustomed to your strange way of being,” he said with the strongest Russian accent he could fake without making it obvious, “but is it common in England to find beautiful men in trees?”

 

“James?” Q asked, turning his head around so fast that his already askew glasses almost fell off. “What the bloody hell are you…” He trailed off when he caught a glimpse of Alec, his green eyes widening, standing out due to the yellow background created by the tree’s leaves.

 

“I am sorry to disappoint, but my name is Alec.” He flashed Q a smile and moved closer to the tree. “And might I know the name of the beautiful man that’s dangling from the three like a helpless kitten?”

 

Q’s eyes narrowed and he held on tighter to the branch. “I may be stuck in the tree because of a cat that used me as a ladder the second I got up here, but a kitten I am not.” He sighed, looking away from Alec. “And my name is Q.”

 

He let out a small distressed sound when the tree started to move because Alec was climbing in it, instantly wrapping his arms and legs around the man when he got to him. “I’ll tell you this here because I know you won’t risk falling off just to kick me, but that’s the kind of name a child would give his cat,” Alec joked, hiding the shock of having someone that warm and soft against him.

 

Q smelled like tea and James’ favourite aftershave and Alec closed his eyes for a moment, allowing his mind to wonder back to the times where it wasn’t uncommon for him to be wrapped around something that had the man’s smell on it.

 

“I’d worry if a child got to its seventeenth cat, according to the English alphabet, Mister Alec.” Alec’s body reacted instantly when the man’s warm breath caressed his ear, that posh accent making his blood boil. Oh yes, James definitely had excellent tastes when it came to lovers.

 

“Or maybe the child is at his first cat and he just likes the letter Q?” Alec offered, making sure to scratch his knee and elbow badly to rid himself of his growing erection as he jumped out of the tree. “There, the large cat is now safe and sound on the ground.” He grinned at the sulking man and helped Q him get the leaves out of his hair, silently cussing that he had gloves on.

 

Q started to pull him towards a bench without saying anything and for a moment Alec was disappointed about how easily he had made the man fall for him. He closed his eyes and moved closer to him, completely missing the confused he was getting and the fact that Q was pulling out a small bottle of hydrogen peroxide from his satchel.

 

Alec tried to jump away when he felt a burning sensation over his elbow, but Q proved to be surprisingly strong as he kept him in seated. “It doesn’t hurt that bad and cleaning your scratches is the least I can do after getting me down from that tree without breaking my bones,” Q said slowly, frowning.

 

It took a moment for Alec’s brain to start working again, caught off guard by how careful Q was with his wounds. “Do you do this often?”

 

“Get stuck in trees?” Q gently blew on Alec’s elbow – and Alec suddenly regretted wearing tight pants – to make sure that it was cleaned properly before kneeling in front of him and starting to take care of his leg.

 

Blinking back his surprise and reminding himself of his plan, Alec gently tapped Q’s forehead to get him to look up, regretting it a bit since he felt like he never wanted those eyes to look away from him. “No; disinfecting and dressing all sorts of wounds.” His voice came out a lot softer than he had intended, but Q didn’t seem to notice.

 

“You collected me from a tree. That should answer your question.” He smiled at Alec and put a band aid on his knee, getting up. “Sadly, all I can do for you clothes is pay.”

 

Alec grabbed Q’s hands and pulled him close, shaking his head. “I can’t accept money from you, but I will not say no to a warm cup of tea.”

 

Q furrowed his brows, tilting his head to the side. “Please pardon me if I am making any sort of assumptions since I’ve been told that I am terrible at readying body language when it comes to situations such as this one, but if you are asking me out, I will have to turn you down because I already have a partner that I deeply care for.”

 

“I was not foolish enough to think that a beautiful man such as yourself would be single, although it makes me sad that I didn’t save you from a tree earlier.” He let go of Q and took a few steps back, covering the scarred side of his face. “Making friends does not come easy to me and I was really hoping I’d finally get one after three months in this new country.”

 

Q got distracted by his phone before Alec could really start acting like the poor, lonely foreigner. “Already? That was bloody fast, Bond. I’ll be there in twenty minutes tops.” His voice was lacked emotion, but Alec easily read the worry in his eyes.

 

“Is everything in order? Do you want me to drop you off somewhere?” Alec asked as soon as Q closed his phone, the man instantly bolting from his side. “Do you need my help with anything?”

 

“Thank you, but it’s not necessary. There should be a car outside the park’s entrance to pick me up.” He was in such a hurry to reach the gate that he did not see the missing manhole cover or the sings around it and was quite startled when Alec grabbed the back of his jacket and pulled him back. “I believe that I now owe you a full lunch,” Q breathed out.

 

Alec smiled at him and hugged him tightly, caressing his lower back gently. “Nothing would make me happier than eating with my new friend.”

 

“I’d be a terrible friend. I always run off like this.”

 

“You’d be my friend and I understand how work is, since I own a company that simply refuses to run properly if I am not there to hold everyone’s hand.” He pulled back and intended to kiss Q’s cheeks, blame it on his eastern European habits if the man reacted violently.

 

But the car pulled up and Q jumped out of his arms, Alec quickly dropping his phone to the ground to avoid allowing the MI6 driver see how he looked –he might have deleted all the files they had on him and many of the people that had personally knew him might have already be dead or retired, but he could never be too sure.

 

“Then we’ll meet here, tomorrow, at the same time, but not in the same way.” Q chuckled and Alec found out that he liked hearing that.

 

Not exactly a good thing since he wasn’t supposed to be attached, but he was sure he’d get bored of it soon. He was worse than James when it came to relationships, quickly getting bored and tired of the little quirks that intrigued him at first.

 

It wouldn’t be long before he’d get annoyed by the way Q’s hair seemed to twist and turn as if it had a life of its own, making him want to completely shave it off rather than run his hands through it or bury his face in it. And so what if he currently wanted to get lost in Q’s green eyes? He’ll soon start comparing them to an unpleasant swamp and do everything he could to keep his food down while looking at them.

 

The slight pang of worry he felt the following day when Q greeted him in the same clothes and with huge bags under his eyes, looking like he hadn’t slept a wink the previous night? It will disappear in no time. As will his apparent need to offer the young man a bed and keep watch over him to ensure that nothing disturbed him.

 

“I am sorry for how horrible I must look. The emergency at work ended up lasting more than I originally thought.” He shivered as he said this and Alec draped his jacket around him before he even realized what he was doing. “No, no, I couldn’t—“

 

“Your weather is nothing compared to what I am used to,” he interrupted Q, rubbing his arms in an attempt to get him to stop shivering. “Though I think some sleep would do you much better than my jacket.”

 

He was mortified at himself for offering Q a chance to back out of their lunch despite being aware that Q might not offer to reschedule. He didn’t want to think that it had something to do with the information he had been fed with last night about how Q stood up to M when he was ordered to abandon the new 006 and only focus on recovering the data he had. Or about how he watched a video of the man typing like a madman to disable every alarm system and camera that James encountered in order to smuggle him out of the building he had managed to trap himself with not even one hour after he reached the destination.

 

“We’ll eat first; James was quite upset when he heard that I forgot dinner and breakfast and insisted I at least have lunch,” Q muttered, confused for a moment about why he could rub his eyes and then looking embarrassed when Alec took his glasses off to let him do that.

 

“Is James the lucky one who stumbled upon you before me?”

 

Q smiled a little, nodding. “He is away on business, but he still finds time to chide me for forgetting how to, well, live.”

 

They entered a small, family owned restaurant, Q instantly receiving a warm greeting by an old lady who hugged him and squeezed his arms, completely upset of how easily she could feel his bones. Alec agreed with everything she was saying, Q narrowing his eyes when he saw that. He whispered the word ‘traitor’ as he was dragged to a table and a large bowl of soup was placed in front of him, the woman shoving a spoon in his mouth.

 

“You don’t let this one get up until that bowl is empty, you hear me?” She told Alec, tapping his shoulder with a wooden spoon. “And be careful; he has a silver tongue that gives even his man trouble.”

 

“I haven’t had the pleasure to get a taste of this silver tongue of his.” Alec winked at Q, the young man snorting when the woman hit Alec over the head with the wooden spoon.

 

She watched him with cold, narrowed eyes that reminded Alec of the way his guardian looked at him whenever she knew he was up to no good. “You keep your tongue to yourself, or else I’ll cut.” She barked out a laugh, slapping his back. “You’re Russian, yes? I have the best kidney-pickle soup in London.”

 

She was gone before Alec could stop her. “I thought British people were more reserved.” He rubbed his head, sure that he’d end up with a lump and surprised that he didn’t feel the need to fill her with bullets for the way she treated him.

 

“She’s from Eastern Europe and loves to bully me,” Q admitted sullenly.

 

“It’s for your own good,” the woman said from right behind him and Alec laughed at the way Q bristled. “I need to put some meat on those bones of yours or else James’ going to start showing up with stab wounds.” She pinched Q’s face and put a smaller bowl in front of Alec, fixing him with his eyes. “When I come back, I want to see both of your bowls clean.”

 

Alec hated to admit it, but the soup was indeed the best he had in years. It reminded him of home, of the time before England, before his father lost his mind and his mother was still by his side, taking care of him and loving him. He didn’t like that; he didn’t like that something as silly as food was making him regret his life and he needed air.

 

His head was filled with all sorts of questions and room was getting hotter by the minute. Why was this happening? Was this a panic attack? Why was he thinking about his mother out of all things? Did the woman put something in his food? Was this a trap? Did Q know who he was and just successfully poisoned him?

 

And in all the confusion in his head, he felt a warm hand resting on top of his and he saw worried green eyes, Q’s calm, deep voice silencing his mind. “Take deep breaths and focus on me. Everything is okay; you’re safe. We’re safe.”

 

He helped him drink a glass of water, asked the woman to take his bowl away and then started talking about the weather and other such frivolous things until Alec’s hand stopped shaking in his. Alec was thankful that Q pretended everything was fine and that he hadn’t just witnessed him almost have a nervous breakdown.

 

“It’s James’ favourite, you know and I found it when he practically dragged me here after he realized that I had forgotten to eat for two days straight.” Q said suddenly, still holding Alec’s hand, acting as his anchor to reality.

 

“You are horrible at taking care of yourself, aren’t you?” Yet so good at taking care of others, and it was such a pity that he was wasting it on someone who was going to be the literal death of him. A pity he was wasting it on someone like James when Alec knew for a fact that the man was still going on honey pot missions.

 

Q chuckled, rubbing the back of his head. “I forget that I am human and my internal clock is broken beyond repair. I just don’t realize when time passes.” As if to prove that, he check his phone and his eyes widened comically, letting out a strangled surprised sound. “I should really go home. I start at 6 AM tomorrow.”

 

Alec got his wallet out before Q even had a chance to blink, but the woman appeared out of nowhere and slapped his hands away. “This was on the house. You take that boy home and come back soon, yes? And with James in tow; I have a few words for that unruly man-child regarding his eating habits.”

 

“There is no point in fighting with her,” Q whispered, struggling to zip his jacket. “You will be going home with a doggy bag before you realize it.”

 

“Let me do it for you,” Alec said amusedly, tempted for a second to pull him close and kiss those pouting lips. “But she is right about me taking you home; I don’t trust you enough not to fall asleep on a bus or subway.”

 

It looked like Q was going to say no, but he slowly nodded, clutching his phone tightly. At least he had enough sense of self-preservation not to fully trust him, although if Alec really wanted to anything to him at this moment in time, taking into consideration the difference in height, weight, muscle body and the fact that Alec was rested while Q was pretty much napping on his feet, not even a gun would save the young man from him.

 

Of course Q had fallen asleep by the time they reached his apartment building, not bothered in the least by the way the GPS was loudly announcing that they had reached their destination. His head was rested against the car door, lips parted slightly, eyes rapidly moving behind his eyelids and his hands were loosely holding on to his seat-belt.

 

It was amazing how relaxed he looked, to the point where Alec couldn’t find it in his heart to shake him awake. He just turned up the heat in the car and draped his jacket over the man, fishing out his phone to see if he could fix whatever problems had arisen while he was out, playing with his little mouse.

 

Q was eventually woken up by a concerned cop and while initially referring to Alec as his boyfriend named James, he realized what was going on and explained everything to the officer before Alec lost his patience and pulled out his gun.

 

“I am so sorry about it, Alec,” Q muttered in the palms of his hands after entering the elevator. “You should have woken me up.”

 

“You looked really tired and I could never wake up a sleeping kitten,” Alec teased, ruffling Q’s hair and stepping inside his apartment.

 

It was obvious that two people lived in it, Alec recognizing a few of James’ coats and shoes mixed with Q’s at the entrance. Once seated in the living room, his eyes instantly settled on the picture of Q with a Santa hat and a ridiculous sweater on, his cheeks a bit red sitting in James’ arms who was dressed in one of his best suits, smiling smugly at the camera as if to say ‘The Quartermaster is mine, move on’.

 

“Ah, that was taken last year at the office party my company held.” Q carefully picked the picture up and ran his hand down James’ face, a flash of worry in his eyes. “I was a bit tipsy in this picture, but James like it a lot since it is the only one that he says I’m relaxed in.”

 

Q excused himself to go bring the thermos with coffee he insisted on giving Alec, leaving the man alone to peek around. There was a gaming console with a thin layer of dust on it, shooting games surrounding it, the DVD display still blinking to announce the movie was still on pause.

 

There were all sort of books stuffed on the shelves, a horrid Union Jack dog keeping watch over everything from the highest point. It was the only porcelain thing in the entire room which definitely did not belong to James and Q didn’t seem like the type to collect such horrible things - unless they were clothes.

 

“We’ll have to meet again so I can give you the thermos back,” Alec said from the door and Q nodded, giving him his phone number.

 

Alec leaned close to him thinking that he was sleepy enough not to realize his cheeks had been kissed until way after he was gone, but ended up with the door slammed in the face. But despite that, he considered the day a win.

 

They kept meeting after that, Q looking more and more tired and Alec slowly starting to actually care - to the point where he had his people aid James to get rid of some people that needed to be eliminated - and it worried him. It worried him because Q still treated him kindly, as a friend should and he craved to taste him and wake up next to him in bed.

 

On the first two weekends in which James was still away and Q looked slightly better, the young man took Alec sightseeing around London. He pointed out the tourist traps and the best places they could eat, showed him a market with decent prices – despite Alec repeatedly telling him that he owned a company and that he didn’t really care about money – and insisted on paying for every lunch or dinner they had since Alec got away with entrance fees and whatnot.

 

Q loved museums, but Alec found them extremely boring. Yet he never said anything because Q seemed to come to life despite how tired he originally was when he talked about each artist. And also because he needed Q to fall for him, of course – though he constantly had to remind himself this part of his plan.

 

“So, where did you and this mysterious James meet?” Alec asked when they were halfway thought the National Gallery.

 

Q stopped and turned around suddenly, a smile so bright that Alec couldn’t see anything but the young man for a second. “Right in front of this painting, actually. It was a sort of a blind date and it started off with insults because he thought I was too young.”

 

Alec sat on the bench and Q mirrored his movement, still smiling. “Though, in all honesty, I was the one who started it by comparing him to that ship right there,” Q continued to explain, fighting back a yawn.

 

“Did you get any sleep last night?” Alec already knew the answer, his annoying mole informing him that the Quartermaster had taken to coming to work with a duffle bag, showering and changing there before taking a short nap. “And don’t say enough,” Alec muttered, grabbing Q’s chin and pulling him close.

 

Q’s eyes fluttered shut and for a moment, Alec was sure that the man would kiss him. But he hummed the way he always did and started to drum his fingers over his lips. “If I add all the names, six hours in total. But I am going to home after we’re done here and I am afraid that I’ll abandon you tomorrow.”

 

The word stuck a cord in Alec and he released Q’s face before he started to squeeze. “I hope I did not do anything to offend you. I truly did not mean to trip and make you spill coffee on the lady from the National Museum.”

 

Lies, of course. He totally meant to spill that hot coffee on her because she was playing the lost tourist card as she latched herself to innocent’s Q arm, stealing all of his attention. And she got off easy because Q suddenly moved lowered his hand and the hot liquid landed on her feet instead of her face.

 

“No, no. You did nothing wrong,” Q reassured him, placing his soft, warm hands that Alec had become addicted to on his chest. “James is coming back tomorrow and we’ll spend the day together. But, I’d love it if you’d join us for lunch.” He looked with pleading eyes at him and before Alec realized what he was doing, he accepted the invitation.

 

Q swayed on his feet and Alec’s hands moved on their own, gently holding the man until he was sure that he wouldn’t faint. “I live closer,” Alec said, trying one last time to get the man in his bed. “And enough room for two people in—“

 

“Thank you for offering, but when I am this tired, I have a hard time falling asleep in a bed that’s not mine.”

 

It was impossible for Q not to understand what he had really just turned down and, with a confused heart, Alec admitted that the man would never cheat on James. Even if Alec offered Q the world, he wouldn’t sleep with him.

 

“Then, can I drive you home?” He wanted one last normal goodbye from Q because, come tomorrow, he’ll do that with a gun pointed at him.

 

“I don’t trust myself to stay awake enough to get there,” Q said with laughter in his voice, linking their arms together.

 

Alec expected the man to fall asleep just like the first time, but Q didn’t. He talked about their future lunch with great joy, so sure that he and James would instantly become the best of friends. They had the same sense of humour, Q said, and even shared the same, horribly clichéd and corny pick-up lines.

 

“How do you know we won’t just start fighting for you? I am sure I can take your James down in hand-to-hand combat.” Despite the outcome of their last encounter, he _had_ defeated James in a fair fight. If it hadn’t been for that bitch distracting him, James would have died and Q would have been spared from his inevitable fate.

 

“Because I know you two are big boys and big boys share.” He gave Alec a quick hug then slammed the door shut in his face before the man could process what he had said.

 

The prospect of sharing someone with James – Q, of all people – again made Alec hate the man even more. If only he’d set that blasted timer to six minutes instead of three. If only he wasn’t so obsessed with England and that dead bitch, then they’d both be enjoying Q on every surface of Buckingham palace itself.

 

But no, Q had to die. Q had to die because James loved him and he loved him back and James needed to know how being alone truly felt like. And if his mind wouldn’t shut off and let him get some sleep, then he’ll make it with the aid of some sleeping pills.

 

Someone knocked at his bedroom door just as he put the medicine in his mouth, the hard voice of one of his personal bodyguards scratching Alec’s ears. “Sir, there’s a kid with two heavy duffle bags at the entrance that’s demanding to talk with you.”

 

“That’s a really stupid reason to bother me with, Ivan.” If he was a true evil bastard, he’d put a bullet through the man’s skull. “We’re not buying anything, we’re not a hotel and, unless he has definitive proof that I fathered him, I have no child.”

 

“I know sir and you know I’d normally deal with this without even thinking about bothering you, but…” The man trailed off and Alec’s curiosity grew to the point where he opened the door to find him looking extremely uncomfortable and unable to look him in the eyes. “He said I should tell you that the Quartermaster wishes to talk with 006 about 007.”

 

Alec’s heart stopped and his blood turned to ice. “Show him in to the living room and check the perimeter to see if he came alone if there are other vermin hiding in the bushes.”

 

The second he stepped into the room, Q all but threw himself at him, grabbing the collar of Alec’s robe, looking up at him with pleading us. “I lost all trace of James and M locked me out of my branch because I am emotionally compromised or something!”

 

“Q, what are you on about?” He gently took Q’s hands in his and started to guide him towards the sofa, still trying to keep up appearances. “What is all this madness about M and numbers and coins? Did you have a nightmare?”

 

The look Q gave him froze Alec in place. “Alec Trevelyan, former agent double oh six of MI6, don’t you dare insult my intelligence.” He didn’t even flinch when the room filled in with men three times his build, pointing guns at him. “There, your loyal men just gave you away. Can you please drop the act and help me?”

 

Alec pinched the bridge of his nose. His downfall will always be the people he works with. At least this time, nothing exploded. “Alright, I bow down to your magnificent brain, Quartermaster,” he growled. “Would you be kind enough to share how you—“

 

“You destroyed the digital file we had on you, but not the written one. And then there is also the fact that James talks about you,” Q said hurriedly. “Of course I recognized the infamous 006 and when I told James about my new ‘friend’, he confirmed that it was you.”

 

He flinched when Alec grabbed his hair, but still looked at him with defiant eyes. “Did you enjoy your little game, Quartermaster? Mocking a man who has lost everything over and over again?”

 

“I wasn’t doing anything like that. I had no idea who you were the first time we met and James warned me that night about you, but when we went for lunch and you had that panic attack—” He gasped when Alec pulled roughly on his hand, grabbing his hands to be sure that he wouldn’t be thrown into a wall. “I really thought you could change and stay in his life, in _our_ lives.”

 

There was the possibility that Q was just a great actor and if that was the case, than Alec wanted to applaud him and throw roses at his feet because as far as he could tell, the man’s eyes held honesty and hope while his voice was full of sincerity. Only fucking Bond could stumble on such a human.

 

“You really are a work of art, you know that?” Alec whispered, releasing Q’s hair in favour of caressing his face. “I had no such plans. You were nothing but a pawn that was going to be sacrificed just so I could watch him suffer and lose his mind.”

 

“Something changed, I know it did.” Q covered Alec’s mouth, ignoring the many guns that were once again pointed at his head. “I can read agents and even if cut all ties with MI6, you are still an agent at heart and I, as a Quartermaster, can read _you_.”

 

Alec wrapped his arms his arms around Q and buried his nose in his hair, getting lost in his smell. “You are a foolish dreamer, an innocent little boy who lives too much in his head if you actually believe all the bullshit you just said.” he whispered cruelly in Q’s ear, pushing him away.

 

But Q clung to Alec’s arm and refused to let go no matter how hard the man was trying to shake him off. “You know I am right, but if it makes you feel less confused, then I am all that you just said. Just help me, please. I’ll do absolutely everything you ask of me.”

 

The desperation in Q’s voice and the determination in his eyes made Alec sick. “Are you really sure you’d do everything?” He liked his lips and Q nodded without hesitation. “Even if I ask you to sleep with every many in this room and then bring a hundred more?” Q nodded again without hesitation, though his eyes were wide and filled with fear. “You’d turn into a harlot for England, Q?”

 

“No. Not for England; For James,” Q breathed out, his words sending Alec back to when James had let go of him.

 

James, James, everything was for James, in the end. It was as if the world had gone mad and forgotten that it was supposed to revolve around the sun and not James bloody Bond. Even Q, a man with a bright mind and a brighter future ahead of him had gone stupid over the agent who slept with other people while his lover was in his ear, trying to be quiet as a mouse and not let anyone see just how bothered he was by that.

 

“Are you sure about that?” Alec insisted, squeezing Q’s chin tight enough to leave behind bruises. “Even though he sees nothing wrong with him sleeping around and pretty much forces you to listen in on him doing—“

 

“I made him promise to never destroy a earwig after one of the women turned out to love painting her sharp nails with a type of poison that almost killed him,” Q interrupted Alec, eye twitching.

 

Why was he being so stubborn? “If you sleep with someone else while you are with him, he’ll brand you a traitor and won’t even bother to listen to you.” A lie, of course. James wasn’t dumb enough to leave someone like Q and Alec wasn’t about to actually let the man degrade himself.

 

What he was actually trying to do was get Q to save himself. If he changed his mind now and abandoned James, Alec would still drag the idiot from whatever hellhole he managed to crawl in just to tell him that Q didn’t think he was worth saving. Then he’d whisk the young genius away and—

 

“I love him. If he’s safe, if he’s alive, even if he leaves me, I will be happy knowing that,” Q said stubbornly, pushing Alec away and opening his jacket, revealing that he was wearing a shirt that definitely wasn’t his. “So who’s first? You, Alec? Or your right hand man? The one who opened the door? Hurry it up; I wasted enough time trying to talk sense into M and save my minions from getting court-martialled.”

 

Alec lunged at Q and covered him with his body, looking at his men like a wild animal. “No one touches him, understood?” He growled and everyone quickly nodding, lowering their heads and taking a step back. “Ivan, get the plane ready. Bring five of your best men, two medics and two nerds. Take his duffle bags on board, find him some dark clothes. Everyone, get out.”

 

He felt Q start to shake as soon as the door closed and he was breathing rapidly as if he was trying to stop himself from crying. Alec wasn’t sure that he could take him doing that, so he just held on tighter to him and rubbed his back until he started to breath normally again and he whimpered a ‘thank you’.

 

“You’ll tell James you love him and then you’ll take the gun I’ll give you, hold it against your temple and pull the trigger.” Alec felt Q stiffen in his arms, but he told himself he didn’t care. “If you turn that gun on me, one of my snipers will blow that bastard’s brains all over your pretty face and then I will spend the rest of my life making sure you outlive me, knowing that it was you who killed James. Do you understand?”

 

Q hung his head and nodded, needing a second to register the battered and scratched gun Alec was pushing in his hands. It had been James’ favourite gun because Alec had been the one who gave it to him – or so the man had claimed. He did take better care of if than any other weapon he ever had, but Alec still found it abandoned among the rubble of his first grave.

 

“If this will make you happy and save James, then I will do as you say,” he said mechanically, eyes empty. “I also had planned on giving you a special gun tomorrow, after lunch. It only fires for you and shocks everyone else who is trying to use it. It’s in the velvet box in one of my duffle bags, so please make sure that none of your men try to use it.”

 

***

 

Up until reaching the airplane’s door, Q had been acting like a lifeless doll. He didn’t say anything when Alec watched him change his clothes, didn’t flinch when one man actually dared to brush his shoulder and wink at him – Alec broke the man’s arm and then shot the other; he said that no one was to touch Q – and sounded like a robot as he answered whatever questions the excited computer technicians had for him.

 

But the instant he realized he had to board a plane, he freaked. He somehow managed to turn paler than he already was, he started to shake and let out a strangled noise, taking a step back and turning to look horrified at Alec.

 

The two doctors seemed to understand what was going on and tried to reach him, Alec also moving to wrap his arms around him and try to coax him in the plane, but one of his men who lacked patience kicked Q’s ass, forcing him in.

 

Alec didn’t think twice about shooting the man, letting Ivan to deal with him while he pulled a terrified Q in his arms. “It will bring you little solace coming from me, but I won’t let anything bad happen to you. The plane is safe and I’d let you inspect it, but I don’t think darling James has that time.”

 

Q took deep breaths and allowed Alec to walk him to his seat, clutching the man’s hand tightly. “It’s not something I can control. I am afraid despite knowing that it’s illogical. I know you’ll keep me safe for that bullet, but I am still afraid a million things will happen while we’re in the air.”

 

The take-off had been horrible for Q, the man calming down a little only when Alec pulled him in his arms and let him hide in his jacket – which made him question Q’s sanity since it wasn’t normal for someone to relax when he was being held by the man who was forcing him to shoot himself in front of the man he loved.

 

As soon as the plane was in the air, Q poked his head out and asked for a laptop, the two technicians who saw him as a God bringing him one even before Alec approved. Q forgot where he was the instant he started explaining the inside of the compound where James was being held, hacking in it to observe the way the guards moved in fifteen minutes intervals and to disable the many alarms it had.

 

So lost he was in his technology and in explaining how Alec’s new gun worked without giving any technical specs that might allow for another one to be done that he didn’t even notice the plane landing – which was for the best, despite Alec having loved every second of how close Q had been to him.

 

Ten minutes later and they were all packed into cards, the two technicians staying behind on the plane with two armed guards to guide them. In all honesty, Alec would have liked it if Q stayed there with them and even suggested it, only to be turned down.

 

“If you show up there without me, James will assume you killed me and came to gloat and will start shooting at you.” Q had a good point and Alec hated that. “Don’t worry; the only bullet that will pierce my skin will be the one from the gun you game me.” No sane man would smile after saying that, but in Q’s defence, the smile had been forced and empty.

 

Q was absolutely marvellous with a gun and Alec almost got shot twice because he stared in awe at him. His posture was perfect, his aim deadly. It was amazing how, despite needing glasses not to walk into things, his bullets always reached their targets. Alec couldn’t help himself from ruffling his hair and patting his back, congratulating him on a job well done when the area was clear.

 

“I had a good teacher.” James, no doubt. “Tell your men to fall back and make sure the coast is clear. James might…” his voice wavered and his hands started to shake, this time not stopping even when Alec placed his over them. “I had fun and I really did hope you’d accept living with us.”

 

“Q, I—“ He stopped talking when a door close to them was kicked open and he pushed Q behind him, gun drawn and armed. “Come near me or my partner before I am done having this conversation and I’ll give you a slow death,” Alec warned.

 

“He is my lover before he is your partner. And dead men can’t torture the living,” James exhausted voice drifted down the hallway, Alec lowering his gun at the exact same moment Q bolted from behind him.

 

“James, you bloody idiot! Let me look at you,” Q instructed as he skidded to a stop mere millilitres away from James’ expectant arms.

 

Alec slowly made his way towards them, hands in pocket, listening to the long list of James’ wounds. It was bothering that his steps were small, his walk lacking the confidence it had when they met at Stalin’s statue.

 

When James finally came into view, half naked, bleeding but still smiling because Q was carefully touching him and scolding him, Alec came to a full stop. It was strange to see the man in person after so many years, to hear his voice without the small buzzing sound the speakers had.

 

And then James turned to look at him, his eyes suddenly going cold as he grabbed the gun Q still had in his hand and squeezed the trigger. Alec had to pat his chest to be sure he really hadn’t been shot, turning to look at the dead guard that James had just killed.

 

“You need more hours at the shooting range, James. In the past, you wouldn’t have missed my head.” He took his jacket off and threw it at him. “Cover your embarrassment, tigr.”

 

James relaxed and stopped shivering when Q carefully draped the jacket around him, running his hands down his back to warm him up. “In the past, you wouldn’t have used your body to shield the light of my eyes.” He moved to cup Q’s face, confused when the man suddenly stepped away from him. “Love, is everything okay?”

 

Q nodded, moving the gun Alec had given him into view. “I wish I had more time,” he whispered in a shaky voice. “But you’re safe now and Alec has two doctors with him that will make you better and I love you.” He pushed the barrel against his temple and squeezed the trigger before James realized what was happening.

 

There was no loud sound, no mushy noise that Q assumed came with a bullet piercing one’s skull and no pain. All the felt was one of Alec’s arms around his stomach pushing him against his chest, his lips against his ear as he took the empty gun from his hand.

 

“Your man is really something,” Alec started to say slowly, almost drowned out by James’ ragged breathing. “He was ready to do anything to save you. What did you ever do to deserve him? Tell me, James, why is he so ready to give up his life from a man who wouldn’t do the same if his precious England was in danger?” He kissed Q’s cheek, the man still frozen in shock.

 

That didn’t go over too well with James, the man baring his teeth. “Alec, you bastard, let Q go this instant.” He opened his arms when the other backed away and Q flung himself in them, forgetting that James was wounded. “Did he do anything to you? I told you not to trust him and that he was insane. If he hurt you, I’ll tear him limb from limb. He gave you this gun, did he?” James turned Q away from Alec, rubbing his back, firing question after question.

 

Alec stepped to the side to give them their privacy, checking in on his men to be sure that everything was still under control, his two boffins proudly and happily announcing that they had managed to get the information from the main server just as Q had wanted it.

 

“Q, your new minions…” The words died on Alec’s lips when he saw how passionately the two were kissing, need washing over him. He licked his lips and imagined how it would be to break the kiss and cover Q’s lips with his, swallowing the man’s small mewls just before James growled and pulled him in a rough and demanding kiss.

 

He realized that he had walked up to him only when James pushed Q behind him and punched him in the face, throwing himself over him. “Let me greet your properly, _old friend_ and show you my gratitude for making Q think he had to die for you to get your lazy ass of whatever sofa it was on.”

 

“If it helps, I really did intend to kill him before he grew on me.” That earned him two decent punches, blocking the third one. “But hey, he’s alive, you’re alive, I am alive. Surprise!” He flipped them over, putting his knees on James’ hands to keep him still. “This is no way to treat your saviour, tigr. And you are so weak that I didn’t even have to struggle to pin you.”

 

Q wrapped his arms around Alec, hiding his face in his back. “Please don’t hurt him more than he is.” His voice was barely a whisper and Alec immediately complied, releasing James in favour of holding him. “I knew you’d change your mind.”

 

“You’re the warmest human I ever held in my arms.” He grunted when James kicked him, but didn’t return the favour because Q held on tighter to him.

 

The drive back to the airport was more pleasant than it should have been for two bitter enemies locked in a small place. It was probably due to Q being sandwiched between them, squeezing their hands when their conversations turned into arguments.

 

“I swear I’ll rip your heart out if I find out you did anything to him,” James said for the tenth time since they got in the car, automatically turning to kiss Q on the nose when his hand was squeezed. “And Q, never ever put yourself in so much danger just to rescue me. I don’t deserve it.”

 

“Damned right you don’t.” He cupped Q’s face and turned him to look at him, narrowing his eyes. “And you’re more insane than I am, if you’re sitting by my side so calmly. Learn something from James and never trust me.”

 

He closed his eyes when Q’s warm hands rested on his face, a small smile breaking out when he felt the man’s lips on his forehead and heard James growl. “Like I said; I am the Quartermaster and I know how to read agents. Plus, that gun was too light to have bullets in it.”

 

Neither said anything about how truly terrified Q had looked when he held the gun to his own head or that he still shivered whenever he caught sight of it. It was going to take a long time before James trusted him even a little bit and Alec realized that he was no longer thinking of truly hurting him, but that he was instead trying to find ways to get himself invited in their cosy little apartment for lunch.

 

“You made him fly?” James erupted when he saw that they pulled next to a plane, Q ending up squished between them when his lover went for Alec’s neck. “I’ll make sure that you stay dead this time, you bastard.”

 

“James, you’re bleeding again. Stop it this instant,” Q ordered and by magic, the agent did as he was told. “And, despite what you think of me, I can’t quite invent a teleporting device, so of course we took the next thing on the list that got us here faster.”

 

He leaned his face in James’ hand and easily accepted the small kisses the man offered, flinching when he felt Alec’s large hand on the back of his neck. “Well, next time I will keep him in my apartment until I drag you back to safety. _If_ he’ll ask me for help again.” He rested his head against Q’s back, dragging his hand down until James caught it. “I won’t ask for anything more than lunch in exchange for it. Maybe a hug or two, but nothing else.”

 

James opened his mouth to say something, but Ivan interrupted them, saying that the plane was ready to take off. Q whimpered and moved closer to James, although he had dug his nails in Alec’s arm. “Can I inspect the plane now? The doctors patch James up and I make sure we weren’t sabotaged while we were away.”

 

Of course Alec couldn’t say no to those pleading eyes and even if he ended up paying extra for keeping the runway blocked for six hours without any good reason, at least Q didn’t whimper when they took off. He still dug his nails in both of their hands to the point of drawing blood and the instant they could take their belts off, he asked the two medics to give him sleeping pills, but all in all, it went better than the first time.

 

He put his head in James’ lap and stretched his legs for Alec’s without realizing, struggling to explain why he had suddenly become so interested with the plane’s engine. By the time he fell asleep, James was under the distinct impression that he was plotting to create something that could be used on land, underwater and in the air.

 

“If you ever make him feel like he is in danger or that he has to die, I will rip that black heart you have in your chest and eat it just to be sure that you stay dead this time,” James threatened, running his hands through Q’s hair.

 

“If I see fear in his eyes when he looks at me, I’ll die before you do that,” Alec muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. His plans never worked out the way he wanted them, but this time he was happy it didn’t happen. “He’ll be out for at least eight hours and if my hunch is correct, he’s suspended.”

 

“What are you suggesting, Alec?”

 

He grinned, caressing Q’s face. “Well, I have a house on a private island that he might love. I am told my gardens are simply beautiful in this time of the year and he needs a good vacation.”

 

James hummed and nodded, eyes narrowed. “If it has a volcano, I’m throwing you in it.”

 

“Stop plotting to kill each other in horrible ways,” Q muttered, frowning. “I’m throwing both of you in it if you don’t stop bickering.”

 

“Sorry to disappoint, but no active volcano or evil lair to go with it,” Alec chuckled, drumming his fingers down Q’s spine. “I do actually own a company and most of my activity is legal since I didn’t want MI6 to foil my revenge plans.” He took Q’s hand and kissed it, smiling when the man refused to let him pull away.

 

Yes, he quite liked this outcome better than the one in which James was supposed to cradle his lover’s lifeless body and curse the day Alec crossed his path. Especially since they always shared everything and Q looked like he was more than willing for that to happen.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> тигр • (tigr) – tiger
> 
> Comments and kudos are love <3


	3. Tombstones 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darling Amelia asked for: "Everything James believed in and fought for has been a lie. MI6, an institution he pledged his loyalty to, is responsible for every turn of fate he dealt with leaving him bare and broken. So when James disappears for good during a mission M has no other choice but to send a 00 namely her own son after him. What she hadn´t been able to foresee was that Q had completely different plans. He joins 007."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SPECTRE spoils in this story and also a London Spy reference + spoiler for the ending of the first episode.  
> Character death warning when it comes to Alec.

Sunny weather in London was not something common. People prayed for that to happen and when it did and if God was kind enough to let it happen on a weekend, everyone was happy, out and about, enjoying picnics in parks. They wore t-shirts, shirts and miniskirts without leggings or boots and some even went as far as to rub suntan lotion over their exposed skin ‘just to be sure’.

 

James tended to also enjoy those days, not necessarily by wearing casual clothing or going to the park, but his mood was slightly better and he didn’t force most of his smiles. But not today. Today, as he was watching the coffin containing the maimed remains of his best friend into the cold, uncaring ground, he felt the sun was an insult to the man’s very existence.

 

How could the world be so joyful and full of birds perched on green tree branches, singing their happy songs while he was left alone in the world? They were ultimately fighting for the world to go on just like this, but the damned weather could be respectful enough and rain while he was saying goodbye to someone he held so dearly - and also drench the bitch that had ordered his death.

 

“He died doing what he loved,” was the way M started her eulogy, the way she fixed James with her cold, narrowed blue eyes making it clear that the speech was more for him than anything. “And what was expected of him to do. All of you should be so lucky to have such an honourable death as agent Trevelyan’s.” She picked up a hand of dirt and threw it over the coffin, walking away.  

 

Some threw flowers over the coffin, others threw words of regret, and someone had even thrown a simple tie that he had seen Alec wear a couple of times, while James emptied of bottle of the man’s favourite vodka and threw his gun. The priest froze when he saw the metal object, and raised his bible in front of his mouth when James turned to glare at him, taking a step back.

 

“ _Do it_ ,” James thought. “ _Ask me why I did that and say it is not orthodox_.” He narrowed his eyes and flexed his fingers. “ _Do it and give me a good reason to break your neck and send you to your beloved, heartless God this instant_.”

 

Eve came up behind him and linked their arms together, practically dragging him away. “I will not claim to feel the same level of pain as you, especially since your relationship with Alec was more that simple friendship,” he had loved the man, loved him deeply and truly like he had Vesper before him, maybe even more, “but please do not take it out on the innocent.”

 

“So that makes it perfectly okay to empty my gun in that bitch’s head, right?” He growled out, glaring at M as she entered the black, stretch limo that had brought her to the funeral. He had loved the woman as a mother, he really had. And he thought that under that ice armour was someone who loved her agents back and cared at least a little about their well-being.

 

“She—”

 

“And please, Eve, don’t even try to tell me that she’s not to blame.” He interrupted the woman. “You heard him begging her to give the order, Eve. You heard him say there was nothing he could do and you know backup was five minutes away.”

 

“James—”

 

“She made all of us watch and listen to him die and she has it on tape!” He shouted, uncaring of the offended stares he was getting. “And I refuse to go through that ever again. I am done; no more.” He pulled free from the woman’s arms and walked out of the cemetery, ignoring her, ignoring the world and everything in it except for the first bar that appeared before him.

 

He went in, sat down at a table and drank. He drank his thoughts and hours away, laughing at whatever his temporary drunken friends said and pretended he wasn’t a double oh that just put the only person left that he had a connection with in a small box to rest forever.

 

Women came and sat on his lap then dragged him to a little room in the back and they had their fun, James throwing money at the owner to let him sleep the booze off and when morning came with its headache, remorse and memories, he started the whole thing all over again.

 

At some point, in his drunken stupor, he sees Alec next to him. He’s drinking his favourite drink, Vesper leaning on him, his parents playing checkers right next to them. They weren’t having fun; their eyes were completely empty and they looked like they did when they died which sent shivers down his spine and forced more glasses of alcohol down his throat.

 

“I promised myself that I would never beg after father killed mother,” Alec mumbled, scratching at the scar left behind by the heated knife his tormentors had dragged down his face. “And she made me; the number crunching bitch you love so much made me beg until I died.”

 

“We all begged with you, my friend,” James whispered and the woman that was using him as a stool turned her head to ask if he said something. “I said that the next round is one me.” He will use the MI6 issued credit card that the Major pretended he didn’t see him keep.

 

The bar cheered and Alec walked closer to him, then noise of dislodged bones clicking together and burnt flesh making James feel queasy. “I remember you telling me that your parents were both MI6 agents. They retired when they had nothing left but each other and then you came and they died to save you.”

 

“Shut up, Alec. I am not in the mood,” he growled, tightening his hold on his glass until it broke.

 

“What was that, sugar?” The ditzy blond – funny, he was sure she was a brunette five glasses ago–asked, starting to nibble on his ear. “Oh, you got a booboo. Why not come in the back and let me take good care of it?”

 

He allowed her to drag him away and he vaguely remembered pulling a man after him and feeling soft skin on a flat chest, a pair of green eyes that rivalled Alec’s in their intensity looking at him with just a touch of worry. His hand was bandaged and kissed before the woman couldn’t take being ignored and started using her mouth to pleasure him and when he woke up, there was no trace of worried green eyes anywhere.

 

It took a madman threatening to erase MI6 off the face of the earth to get M to personally march in the dingy little bar that had become James’ new home in the past week. That was how much she cared for her best agent – Boothroyd that tried to block his cards before he sent Eve and Tanner after him, but even they couldn’t get him to come back to reality.

 

There was also a duffle bag in that back room that was filled with his clothes and the owner let him use a shower without asking for anything extra, but James suspected that the remaining trio of worrying friends were behind this.

 

But did M do anything for him while he went through this rough patch? Did she call or visit him? No; M only came to him when she needed him and never when he was in trouble. She was like that horrible master that ignored their pet until someone trespassed on their property.

 

“The world needs you,” the woman thundered over the loud noises and drunken laughter, glaring so hard at the woman in James’ lap that he was sure she melted rather than ran away. “So get sobered up, cleaned up and march into Boothroyd’s branch to get your equipment. And do try to bring it back in once piece or I will deduct it from your fee, as usual.”

 

James snorted and leaned over the bar, taking out an unopened bottle of whiskey. “I am still in mourning here, M. Pick another toy from your expensive chest to play with. I’m exercising my legal right to a paid vacation.”

 

Her eyes flared then and in a rare fit of rage, she grabbed his bottle and threw it across the room. “Now listen here, you immature money eating misogynistic man-child!” It was amazing how, with just only a slight raise in her voice tone, M could cause an entire room full of drunkards to quiet down when a broken bottle of alcohol failed. “You are to report in my office in one hour, smelling fresh like a bloody field of roses and ready to do your bloody job.”

 

“You mean die because a pencil pusher decided that it’s cheaper than to send in an extraction team after I retrieve whatever information you want.” He tapped his empty glass against the bar, hoping to snap out the bartender out of his fear induced paralysis. “I think I’ll pass,” he concluded and turned to smirk at the woman, feeling actual pleasure at how close she was to really snapping.

 

“If that is your job, then yes,” she hissed. “You _will_ be in my office because you can’t stand not being an agent.”

 

And, as much as it bothered him to admit it, she was right. But he went there not only because of what she said; he was also curious to see what kind of suicidal mission they were sending him on and with what expensive and overly complicated gadgets – which he loved, but since they were MI6 issued, he was currently pretending to hate them –the good old Major would make the grave mistake of trusting him with.

 

The mission was misleading, but then again all missions were like that. M had sent him after someone who she claimed planned on taking over a major pipeline. He slept with the man’s maid, his nurse and his personal assistant and he found out that his target was nothing more than a business man whose only fault was that he had let MI6 a ridiculous amount of money during War World II and not he wanted it back.

 

Lies, M cried. He was just trying to manipulate James, but a Boothroyd checked and double-checked the new information sent his way and confirmed the agent’s words. And that was when James made a decision – one that came too late since he was pretty much alone, but still better than dying as the woman’s puppet.

 

He disappeared in a grandiose explosion, Boothroyd helping him ‘one last time’ by confirming that the agent had taken out his target while also sacrificing himself. In reality, the old man retreated on an island, changed his name and dumped the larger part of his fortune in one of Alec’s offshore accounts which James had taken over.

 

He, in the meantime, hid in the beautiful Italian countryside and started to plot his revenge on the woman and agency who took everything for him, convincing Tanner and Boothroyd to retire before he could strike. Eve, however, was stubborn. Too stubborn for her own good and while he usually loved that in her, this time it was getting on his nerves.

 

“She’ll use you as a shield like she does everyone else,” James warned, using that phone conversation to check of _his_ IT branch was good enough to block the tracking attempts of whatever new Quartermaster MI6 had.

 

“ _Whatever she does, it’s for the good of this country and you know it_.” Eve sounded desperate and if she were in front of him, he was sure that she would slap him senseless. “ _Stop this and come home, James. I even managed to convince her to sell me your apartment and I saved everything you had in it._ ”

 

He snorted. “Nothing more than a shoebox full of things that remind me of my mistakes and suits. Thank you for your trouble, but burn everything and sell that hellhole. With the money you make off of it and with what I will transfer you, you can go to an exotic country somewhere and live off the rest of your life like the Queen you are.”

 

She let out a little growl and James could picture her in his mind massaging the middle of her forehead. “ _I won’t—”_

 

He threw the phone at the wall, cussing her once again. It would be the last time they talk even though James would check in on her every now and then, hoping to see her gone from MI6. But she was still there, still by M’s side, looking tired and alone and James watched her as she slowly closed herself off from the world until she resembled a robot.

 

At one point, he had been tempted to whisk her away and stick her on an island somewhere until she regained her common sense, but he couldn’t do that. He might have slowly started to act similarly to the men he had fought against until a few months ago, but he still couldn’t be as insane as them and rob someone of their free will.

 

He decided to push her somewhere in the back of his mind and work around her now permanently being anchored to M’s side - he wasn’t planning on ridding the world of that bitch via car/apartment/office explosion anyway, but by slowly taking everything she held dear by rendering MI6 obsolete. See how she liked it when she had nothing left to live for.

 

Contacts were needed to be created so as soon as his little organization took off the ground, he started throwing parties and invited arm dealers and hackers. He was constantly hiring, he explained and as such, he was always searching for new ‘talent’.

 

Beautiful women whose names he never bothered to learn were constantly clinging to him, loving him even more when he winked at them or showered them in attention - both emotional and physical - but he never took an official girlfriend. He simply couldn’t bring himself to hurt someone like that, even if he was practically a cat away from turning into his worst enemy.

 

Since he made no pretence of being straight, there were some men who sought to be his companions and on some nights, he allowed them. They all resembled Alec somehow, be it in the way they radiated confidence, the way they held themselves as if they were waiting for the room to explode or their bodies were so well worked that, if he closed his eyes and they kept their mouths shut, he could lie to himself that it was indeed Alec under him.

 

But then, during one party, he set his sights on a man that was the complete opposite of his lover-friend. He was thin enough that James imagined a slightly stronger wind blowing him away and the black suit he had on, although expensive, looked like it belonged to his older brother.

 

It pleased him when the electrical green eyes landed on him and the man made a beeline for him, something disappearing in a champagne glass which he abandoned on a tray before those delicate looking hands grabbed his. “I’m the recently appointed double oh six,” he whispered in a strangely familiar posh voice and tensed, as if he was bracing himself to be smacked or pushed away.

 

And James was tempted to do just that if only because he had hoped M to have enough dignity to retire that number after the horrible way its last owner died. “Good for you. Do you want me to applaud you or something? Maybe toast in your honour and wish you the best?” He looked at him again and hated him for making him feel want. “Do ask that old bitch to give you money for a proper suit for your next mission.”

 

The man glanced to the side, taking a deep breath. “I am that bitch’s son and she sent me here, hoping that I’d somehow convince you to come back.”

 

James snorted. “Your mother has lost what little she had left of her sanity.” He pushed the man away, feeling the muscles under his suit and noticing his bad attempt at holding back from flinching. So the man was already hurt; how cruel of her. “Does she really think that I will feel pity for MI6 if I think that they’re doing so bad that she had to send her runt of a son to do field work?”

 

The walking willow smirked then and pushed closer to him, ignoring the two women who had attached themselves to James and who were openly glaring at him. “Actually, Mister Bond, she thought that I would convince you to do that by sleeping with you and I was, more or less, ordered to bed you despite my hints of not wanting to do so.”

 

His female companions threw their heads back and laughed, but James felt as if someone had punched him in the stomach. Just how low was M willing to go to protect her precious agency? Sending him on honey pot missions was one thing; he loved doing that. He loved getting lost in the feeling of being wanted and needed. But to order someone to do that?

 

“Simply disgusting,” he snarled. “I am bathing in spilled blood and I have more of a moral compass then her. Do you, as they say, at least swing that way?”

 

The man nodded and brushed James’ chest. “The real problem that my mother has right now is that I want to join you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thought Alec would get an orthodox type of funeral because he is Cossack (despite me writing him as Russian) and most Cossacks are Eastern Orthodox.


	4. Tombstones 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuation of previous chapter.

 

He understood why his mother was the way she was. The weight of the country that she carried on her shoulders behind the scenes was enough to crush anyone. But not her; not his powerful mother. She was strong, fierce, a dragon which shot fire from her mouth and ice from her eyes and if he was in her path when that happened, he was bound to get hurt.

 

But he knew she loved him in her own way. “I do what I do for your own good, boy,” she told him when he was twelve and she shipped him off to that horrible place where he was the youngest and mocked because he preferred a computer over playing football with the children.

 

“It’s horrible here, mother. They broke my computer and–”

 

“ _Fight back, you silly goose_ ,” she said in that exasperated voice tone of hers over the phone, probably rolling her eyes. “ _And think of the broken computer as a favour. They saved your eyes. Mother has to go now, but you continue to be a good boy and know that I won’t mind if the school calls me to complain any form bones or bleeding noses_.”

 

She was called for such injuries, but she was disappointed when she heard that her son had been the one to get them. They said that it had been his fault, said that he had tripped on a loose floorboard and fell down the stairs after he had taunted the older boys. She knew that wasn’t true, but didn’t correct the headmaster.

 

“Can I come home now?” He asked, trying his best not to sob because mother hated when he did that.

 

But she didn’t take him home. Instead, she hired him a trainer - former MI6 agent, he instantly knew by the way he held himself, his hand hovering over the pocket where he usually kept his gun - to give him a proper training. After that, he learned how to defend himself and how to break bones without sweating, so everyone started to avoid him and M was called to school only to discuss how violent he had become.

 

Yet he still loves his mother and thinks that what she did, she did for his own good. Being book smart and also knowing how to defend yourself is not such a bad thing. She doesn’t spend Christmas with him, but Mister Boothroyd is more than happy to sit with him every year.

 

He tells him of his family, shows him pictures of his wife and the little boy things that she is the prettiest woman that he had ever seen. His son, who is just a year older than him, is even more beautiful and the first time he tells the Major that, the man sits him down and they have an awkward discussion.

 

“It’s okay if you feel attracted towards men,” the kind man says softly, patting his head. “I do not think my son feels the same, but do not let that discourage you. It might take a bit, but you will find someone who returns your feelings when you are older.”

 

“Should I also tell mother this?” He asks, suddenly worried that something else might be wrong with him that would make her upset - his eyes had went bad earlier that year and he needed glasses and she was not pleased at all to hear that.

 

“You do what you think best, my lower-case Q, but remember that she loves you no matter what” the man said softly, ruffling the already messy hair in response to the glare he was getting for the nickname. “Don’t look at me like that. You’re the one who keeps beating me at scrabble by using complicated words with 'Q’ in them.”

 

So Q – he had secretly loved that nickname so much that he decided to adopt that simple and single letter as his name despite how young he was – told his mother and was happy to see that she was not upset. She didn’t really care, but she wasn’t sending him off to some horrible gloomy school, so he considered that as a more than enough reason to be happy.

 

He grew up, went to the college his mother wanted, took the classes she preferred, did not complain at all when it became obvious that she was training him to become a field agent despite the fact that he was hinting at wanting to focus on the IT branch. She was his mother and she knew best.

 

And then he fell in love hard for one of the normal agents and the man loved him back. He suddenly didn’t care what his mother had to say or what she wanted. She wanted Alex gone from his life? Though, Alex was there to stay and as far as he was concerned, it was only him and Alex in the world. She wanted him to cease his foolishness and sell the apartment he bought to have privacy with the man he loved? Well, when he wanted to come back home, she just sent him an assassin to train him.

 

The world was at their feet and nothing existed. Then, eight months later, his happiness came crashing down around Q and he was completely and utterly destroyed.

 

His mother took him back without saying a word – the disapproving glares she sent his way across the long table were more than enough in her opinion –and made sure that he wasn’t in the country when anything related to Alex happened. She even went as far as to destroy every picture she could find of the two and Q thanked his lucky stars that he had kept a lot of them on a hidden hard drive.

 

He grew bitter towards her, but only started hating her after finding out the truth. He moved out again, but she refused to let him out of her sights and made it so that his next door neighbour was Alec Trevelyan aka agent 006.

 

Perhaps she had hoped that the man would scare him and that he would move in back with her, realizing the error of his ways or some nonsense like that. And for the first few days, her plan worked perfectly, until Q ended up alone in the elevator with the man, arms full of grocery bags.

 

“Christ, I can’t even see your hair from all of those bags.” Alec’s voice was scratchier than Q had imagined. “And that’s saying something since the first thing I see is your wild hair. The first time I thought you had a fluffy octopus on your head.”

 

Realizing that the dangerous man was trying to make a joke, Q forced himself to laugh even as he backed further away from him. “I just moved in, so I had nothing in the fridge.”

 

“Real men do it in one trip, right?” His laughter reminded Q of a really large dog barking at intruders, making him want nothing more than the ability to pass through walls. “Well, come on.” He grabbed the edge of a few bags and pulled them out of his arms before he could say anything. “I can’t let a junior agent be crushed under the weight of so many zucchinis or whatever.”

 

Q tried to get his bags back, but Alec proved to be like an unmovable mountain. “There really is no reason for you to trouble yourself so much,” Q kept on insisting. “This will really be just a one-time thing.”

 

“Well, even more reason for me to help you.” He moved the bags away from his face so he could wink at Q, the wolfish grin that came with it making him look scarier. “Also, I don’t suppose you have some for a sore throat in here?”

 

“Sore throat?” Q asked slowly, trailing after Alec once they reached their floor.

 

“Yeah.” He stopped suddenly and turned to look at Q who almost bumped against his broad back. “You didn’t actually think I sound like this, did you?”

 

Looking away to hide the blush – his tendency to change colours really irking his mother because a field agent wasn’t supposed to do that – he cough weakly. “Well, this voice goes perfectly well with the way you look, to be honest.”

 

Alec hummed, tilting his head. “If I started to look like a raging grizzly bear, then perhaps it is time for me to get a shave.”

 

This time Q’s laughter was genuine and Alec’s smile was pleasant.

 

They became good friends really fast after that, Q telling Alec about Alex on one drunken night and ending up spooned by the other man. Nothing happened and Q wasn’t sure if he ever wanted anything to happen, especially after Alec awkwardly confessed that he was in love with the infamous James Bond – an agent which Q had yet to meet because, somehow, their schedules were done is such a way that the two were never in the same country at the same time.

 

“You never met the bastard?” Alec asked in an overly dramatic way, hand over his chest, and jaw on the floor. “Sacrilege! Blasphemy!” He sat up and pulled Q to his chest, twirling around the room. “We’ll have to fix this as soon as possible. He’ll love you, you’ll love him, we’ll love each other and we’ll all be happy.”

 

Q laughed. “Well, except for mother.” He covered Alec’s mouth, shaking his head. “No, trust me. Mother will not be happy and she will hate you.”

 

Alec liked Q’s palm and then caught him in a headlock. “Nonsense! All the parents I’ve met loved me. I had one offer me two cows and five sheep to marry their daughter.”

 

Q rolled his eyes, but let the man carry on with his obvious lie. Alec, despite looking like he could kill a man with just his pinkie – and the double oh would be the first to tell you that he could actually do that and you’d be too scared to contradict him because you had the sinking feeling that he would show you that he could – was a giant teddy bear who loved jokes and cuddles.

 

When M realized just how close the two became, both of their schedules became even more erratic. But they still managed to spend at least one day a month together, catching up with each other’s lives.

 

Q was happy when Alec told him that James and he finally took their relationship to the next level. “Just please give me a heads up when you two move in together so I can lock everything I care for in a bomb shelter.”

 

Alec ignored that little joke and took Q’s hand in his, moving slightly closer to him. “You know, I was actually thinking—”

 

“Wait, let me get a red marker and circle this day in a calendar,” Q joked, sticking his tongue out at Alec.

 

“Funny, very funny; James would be in stitches by now, I am sure.” He suddenly looked so serious that Q couldn’t help but feel a little bit worried. “After I come back from this mission, what would you say if I introduced the two of you and we see how things go from there?”

 

“Alec—” He was interrupted by a little peck on the lips, his heart surprising him by beating as fast as the day Alex did the very same thing. “Okay, I’ll try it. But if 007 breaks my neck for coming on to you, I am coming back to haunt you.”

 

Alec chuckled and tilted his head back, giving him an actual kiss. It was slow, carrying, curious, and innocent and Q loved every second of it, licking his lips after they pulled away and contemplating pulling the man back for another one.

 

“He won’t, Q. He’ll love you. We’ll both love you.” He sounded so sure that Q had no choice but to believe him.

 

He really felt like he was back on top of the world and he was seriously thinking about having lunch with his mother when tragedy struck and he was alone again – who says that lightning doesn’t strike in the same place twice doesn’t know math.

 

He had been spared from witnessing Alec’s agonising death by being in the middle of a mission, but James hadn’t been that lucky. He had heard every scream, every groan, every pained plead to be saved and by some miracle, he hadn’t killed M when the gunshot sound was followed by nausea inducing silence.

 

“You can take whatever mission you had for me and shove it up your ass,” he breathed out when the woman came near him.

 

She frowned and held up a folder. “I was actually here to personally congratulate you on your two kills and give you your double oh designation.” She grabbed his hand and shook it forcefully. “Congratulation, double oh six. I am sure you won’t cause as much damage as the previous one.”

 

The feeling of emptiness became greater and if Tanner hadn’t been there to help him with his tie, he would have cried. He was numb at the funeral up until he faced Alec’s closed casket and he was forced to say his parting words drop the tie he had bought for him. In that moment, he was tempted to throw himself after the piece of cloth. Why did all the people he cared for always end up in the cold ground? What had he done so badly in this or his previous life that warranted this kind of punishment?

 

The only other person that looked even more devastated than him was James. The blue eyes that Alec had talked about were red and sunken in and he was as white as a sheet of paper. Q wanted to walk up to him, give him a tight hug and assure him that he wasn’t alone.

 

“I am afraid that this is not the best time to meet 007, Q. Give him a few weeks to heal and pull himself together and then you can introduce yourself,” Boothroyd told him, guiding him towards his classical car – because Q would be damned even more if he was going to be in his mother’s presence for longer than it required to get information on a new mission.

 

Of course he couldn’t stay away from the man for too long and he found him drunk off his ass in a disgustingly cheap bar, throwing money left and right, sleeping with everyone who sat on his lap and having one-sided conversations with someone that would never be able to reply.

 

The image of the man who had been described as a God to him, looking so desperately at the empty seat beside him as he kept mumbling ‘Alec’ over and over again hurt him would haunt him for the rest of his life, short as it may be due to what he was working as.

 

It didn’t take long for James to hurt himself with a glass and Q was by his side in an instant, ordering the bartender - who, by know, was on MI6’s unofficial payroll because there were a few others who cared greatly for James - to bring him a first aid kid and Lord have mercy on his soul if he didn’t have one.

 

“Oh, you got a booboo. Why not come in the back and let me take good care of it?” The blond woman in James’s lap said, giggling in the most annoying way possible.

 

“Let me look at it first and then you can do whatever,” he spoke over the annoying noise that was coming from her mouth, surprised when James grabbed his hand and pulled him into the back room.

 

It was hard for him to focus on the wound when the man kept petting his head and trying to kiss him. If it weren’t for the woman who huffed and pushed James pants down just as Q kissed his hand, he would have turned off his conscience and jump in bed with him.

 

Major Boothroyd dragged him out of there before his mother showed up and kept him on a short leash of sorts – he bribed medical to write him down as sick to keep him off of the field and piled gadget upon gadget upon computer program to keep his mind occupied – the instant that James disappeared.

 

But when Boothroyd left and Tanner followed, M sank her teeth in him and kept sending him on countless missions. “You are an MI6 agent first and my son second,” she informed him and he bit his tongue to keep from correcting her. “Keep your head in the game and away from something as ridiculous as love and try not to get shot or turn into a financial nightmare like that insufferable Bond.”

 

For the most part, he followed her instructions, but he really couldn’t help it if half of the goons he fought where twice his size and three times his strength. Eve, bless her soul, was the one who patched him up as long as there was no bullet hole in him since she knew how much he hated the medical wing.

 

However, there were some missions in which he wasn’t that lucky and he needed actual medical attention. He wasn’t exactly dragged to Medical, but everyone that knew him knew that the smell of disinfectants mixed with the beeping of the machines made him even more miserable.

 

“I think she intends to kill me,” Q said once when he was high on pain drugs, finding it really hard to focus on just one Eve. “But Alex and Alec would be very crossed with me if they see me so soon. But I wouldn’t; I miss them.”

 

He let out a shaky breath and Eve sat on his bed, caressing his head. “It just seems like that, Q. But she cares for you and I am sure that your next mission will be a lot easier.” She kissed his forehead. “Promise me that you’ll do your best to last five years as a double oh. I don’t think I can stand putting you in the ground.”

 

“I won’t do that to you, Eve,” he promised and succumbed to a –thankfully – dreamless sleep.

 

As soon as he was back on his feet, M called him to her office and presented him with his next mission. “You are to bring back 007 alive by any means necessary. And I do mean any means. I have had enough of his brooding and his lame attempts at getting attention.”

 

“Are you seriously telling me to sleep with a total stranger, mother?” Q deadpanned. “I still have bandages wrapped around my chest, for God’s sake.”

 

“If that’s what it takes, agent,” she snapped, slamming the desk. “James Bond is a bloody idiot with a heart too big for his own good and I don’t know how many complexes, one of which is about taking care of wounded people.” Q growled when she leaned over and ruffled his hair. “Miss Moneypenny has everything you’ll need for this mission, including an invitation to Bond’s private party. Wear something nice.”

 

This was actually perfect, Q thought. He was done with M, done with MI6 and he sure as hell wasn’t going to sacrifice himself for people who didn’t deserve it. And if James Bond was really walking down his own path which also happened to go against M, then he was more than happy to offer the man his aid.

 

He put on his best suit – which now looked almost ridiculous on him because he had lost a lot of weight – and went on his mission with a real smile in place. Eve realized that something was up and made him promise to be careful, Q giving her a tight hug that told her everything she needed to know.

 

“Slap him from me and then send him my best regards, okay?” She whispered in his ear just before kissing his forehead. “And take good care of yourself, Q. He’s in a really dark place right now.”

 

His plane landed without a problem, he met up with his contacts instantly and there were no problems in finding James’ mansion and infiltrating it, despite the large bodyguards taking a closer look at his invitations.

 

“Terribly sorry sir; we had to be sure,” the larger of the two grumbled and Q was surprised that the earth did shake when he talked. “Please enjoy the party.”

 

Of course M was scolding him for not buying a new suit that fitted him and how dare he get a clip on tie instead of a real one? Was he an incompetent six year old or a double oh agent? Was it possible that he understand that his sloppiness was endangering the mission? Bond was going to have him removed from his villa just because he was an insult to formal attire!

 

Q was doing his best to ignore her, gritting his teeth, his fingers itching to rub little circles in his temples in an attempt to keep the headache at bay as he scanned the room for his target. He was surprised when his eyes landed on James’ and the man appeared to be watching him, smiling brightly when he realized that was the case.

 

“Have to go, M. It’s been a pain working for you and a complete torture to be your son,” he whispered and dumped his earwig in a champagne glass. He didn’t need a screeching banshee distracting him and he was done taking orders from a woman who never cared to listen to him when he needed her and who always ignored even his simplest of wishes.

 

He wasted no time in telling James who he was and what he wanted and, despite the fact that his ribs hurt like hell from a simple push and that he was currently tied up in a small room with horrible lighting, he thought things went better than expected.

 

James managed to emulate the perfect villain pose, despite the fact that he was sitting on a chair that somehow looked even more uncomfortable then the one he was tied to. He had the perfect poker face as he toyed with his glasses and Q kept expecting a cat to casually stroll into the room and sit on James’ lap.

 

In the past, Q would have been at least weary of James, but after he heard so many stories about him from Alec and after the deceased agent had taught him how to properly read people, he knew that he wasn’t in any sort of actual danger.

 

And it wasn’t just Alec’s funny stories of the man that made him trust his humanity. All the agents that had accidentally crossed his path hadn’t been killed. James simply hurt them – physically and not in a serious permanent way – enough to get them out of the field, stuffing their bank accounts with enough money to guarantee them a cosy early retirement.

 

“I am sorry to disappoint, but they are simple glasses, although wouldn’t it be something if they really were weaponized? Major Boothroyd presented M with blueprints for such a device, but she rejected it.” And he had been so disappointed about that to the point that he actually accepted a lunch invitation from her and tried to no avail to get her to change her mind.

 

“I must be doing a terrible job if you are casually conversing with me as if we were old friends instead of trying to free yourself, or you are truly insane,” James said slowly, looking closely at Q’s glasses. “I have to confess that I find myself in the awkward position of hoping it is the former and not the latter.”

 

Q tugged on his restraints, smiling at James. “If you are playing the evil man, you are doing such a terrific job that I would applaud you if I could. Though the last one I encountered had a flair for the dramatic and had me chained up in a damp cellar and insisting on increasing his electricity bill by applying some wires to my chest.”

 

James dropped the glasses on the small table next to him, got up and ripped Q’s shirt open, gently running his hands over his bandages. “I congratulate you for surviving that encounter then and I assure you that I will not treat you the same.” He cupped Q’s face and Q closed his eyes, leaning in his touch. “You really are telling the truth about wanting to run away from MI6 and joining me, aren’t you?”

 

“Yes. I have lost…enough, I think,” he whispered, sighing when James rested his forehead against his. “And, although this is our first official meeting, I feel like you understand what I am coming from.”

 

James pushed away from him and tried to arrange his shirt a bit. “You’d be surprised how many psychopaths have played the kindred souls card in the past to get me to join them.”

 

Q clicked his tongue, eyes narrowed. “Excuse me, but which one of us is tied up in whose basement again?”

 

A worried guard entered the room, but James held his hand up to keep him from talking. “And yet, which one of us is antagonising their captor? Which, talking from my own personal experience, sounds like a good idea but it really isn’t.”

 

Q really wanted to continue their little bantering game, but the guard had started to tug at his shirt’s collar and kept looking at James and then at the door. “I really think you should deal with whatever he has to tell you. But I promise not to go anywhere.” He tugged on his restraints again just to show James that they were still secured and winked.

 

“I would thank you for your understanding, double –“

 

“I am pretty sure that I am no longer working for MI6, even though we’re not yet affiliated,” he interrupted him, trying to somehow extend his hand towards James. “I prefer to be called Q, if you don’t mind.”

 

James grinned, ignoring Q’s hand in favour of cupping his chin and tilting it back. “You are very confident, Q.” He brushed his thumb over Q’s lower lip and turned to focus on the nervous guard. “Have a doctor see him then show our newest guest to a proper room.”

 

It didn’t take long for the two of them to be friends and, after James offered Q three opportunities to have a normal life, far away from anything MI6 related, he agreed to take him on as his partner.

 

Q loved every second of it and wondered why he hadn’t done this earlier. He had so much money that he never had to worry about overspending on the things he was improving, James never questioned what he wanted to do and on top of everything else, he had free reign over the weapons and IT departments.

 

“I have never had so much fun,” Q announced while testing a flamethrower he had improved despite knowing without a doubt that they would never use it – in his defence, he was planning on selling or exchanging it in favour of smuggling rights in the Amazon. “This one works perfectly. Let’s test—“

 

Someone took the flamethrower out of his hands and he made a little disapproving noise, turning around to glare at James. “Q, they told me you’ve been in this lab for three days straight. Is it something wrong with your new house? Haunted, perhaps?” A little grin that Q secretly loves despite the frown he gives James in exchange. “Or maybe, you’re not satisfied by its size and you realized that you prefer mine?”

 

His house, Q thought, was perfect. A piece of heaven contained in a single floor building with a swing seat that was perfect for sipping wine on warm nights and a small pond in the garden which was constantly occupied by either an aggressive swan or a family of ducks.

 

Compared to James’ spacious villa, his looked like a tool shed and it took him four months to find it and five real estate agents because everyone was under the impression he needed a castle or something – he suspected James was to blame for that, the man outright pouting when Q showed him his new home.

 

“Yours looks like you are trying to compensate for something, Mister Bond.” He still allowed James to rest his hand on his lower back and start guiding him out of the laboratory, almost hissing when the sunlight hit his face.

 

James shook his head, waiting for Q to buckle up before starting up the car. “I think you are swimming in sunglasses in that little shoebox of yours, Q. And I am pretty sure I gifted you with prescription ones two weeks ago?”

 

“I keep forgetting them at home,” Q mumbled, surprised when James opened the glove compartment and pulled out a new pair. “If we go bankrupt before we sink MI6 because of these things, let it be known that I am secretly against them.”

 

James snorted and drove away, slowly down when Q pinched his tights. “I am just trying to be sure you get enough sleep before tonight’s party.”

 

Q groaned. He didn’t exactly hate the parties that were mandatory in order to maintain their friendship with their many suppliers and partners and he certainly preferred them over the long, boring meetings in which everyone either was distracted by his young appearance or by James’ charms – which actually worked in their favour – but he wasn’t their number one fan either.

 

It probably had something to do with the embarrassingly large amount of old men trying to get him to spend the night in their beds, forgetting that he was James’ business partner and not his boy toy. When would people understand that age was no guarantee of efficiency and that judging a book by its cover was the worst thing you could do?

 

And it wasn’t like he or James let that kind of behaviour go unpunished, the more insisting ones ending up with their limbs broken in the trunk of a car that ended up dumped in enemy territory and their contracts permanently terminated which had many fear the duo so much so that some even avoided making eye contact with Q. And yet, when large quantities of expensive alcohol was involved, there simply had to be that one idiot who thought he’d somehow get lucky with Q.

 

“I do not have a date to keep me distracted tonight, so I will deal with any troublesome characters that might confuse you with a boy toy instead of the wonderful genius you are before they even get within two meters of you,” James spoke up, surprising Q.

 

This would be the first time in the three years that Q had worked with James when the man showed up unattended to an event. And Q leaned close to James to see if he had a fever or not.

 

“Very funny, Q,” James grumbled although he did lean in his hand. “I am not sick.” He rested his hand on top of his to keep Q from moving away, the honking now accompanied by cusses and wishes of death.

 

The women that James dated confused Q. He felt equally jealous of them – Alec had been right in thinking that Q would feel something for James – and sad for them. They were just there for a week at the most, a pretty accessory to show James’ status off to the world.

 

Still, despite James’ best attempts to make that clear, the women still fell for him and they always left his villa in carefully hidden tears, back accounts a hundred thousand dollars bigger. And when some of them showed up at their next party trying to get James back, Q couldn’t help but take them to the side and having a conversation with them that always ended with his face pushed up against their generous cleavages.

 

“I, on the other hand, will bring a date to this party,” he announced proudly and James hit the brakes so hard that Q was sure that he’d have a large bruise from his seatbelt.

 

Ignoring the angry honking going on behind them and Q’s slightly terrified face at the prospect of being rammed out of the highway, James cracked his knuckles. “I’m shooting this one if he throws something at my head, Q.”

 

“The last one did that because you walked in on us while we were having sex, sat on the bed next to us and actually pushed him off so you could show me a yacht,” Q growled, rearranging his glasses. He wasn’t planning on sleeping with this man since he was his personal assistant and he was coming on as a date only as a favour to him, but that was not something James needed to know. “Honestly, I am surprised he was the first to do that.”

 

The first time James walked in on him, Q had been mortified and tried to cover himself up as bed as he could while his lover jumped out the window, thinking that the husband had returned home.

 

The second time it happened, the new lover forgot about Q and offered himself to James. Q had thrown that one out the window – the man fell right in his roses bush and ended up with a thorn stuck where no sharp object should be.

 

James had bought him a car after that incident and offered to find him a better man, promising to knock in the future. Which he did, only to enter Q’s room without being invited just as his new lover was using his teeth to open his pants.

 

“Can you not see what we’re doing?” Q had asked only to be completely ignored, James shoving a folder in his hands. “I swear to god, if this could have— Oh, Major Boothroyd sketched this.”

 

Q didn’t even notice when his lover dressed and left, too busy scooting closer to James to show him where he planned on improving the blueprints. He only realized that he had been dumped the following morning when James was making breakfast for the both of them while his now ex-lover was storming out with a duffle bag.

 

James had continued to walk in on him from time to time and by then Q simply rolled his eyes, rested his head in the palm of his hand and waited for his friend to finish showing whatever shiny thing caught his attention.

 

None of his companions stayed after that and some even had violent reactions towards the man that invaded their privacy, the latest one throwing a vase at his head. The only reason why the man was still breathing was that Q – fully naked – had thrown himself at James and wrestled the weapon out of his hands.

 

James squeezing his knee again brought his trip down memory lane to a stop. “Tonight is all about you, your cunningness, and your brilliant program that is one vote away from becoming not only legal, but mandatory.”

 

Q was beyond proud of what he had come up with to counteract the world’s necessity for spies and spy agencies. Once it was voted unanimously by the unofficial heads that ruled their respective countries from behind the curtains, MI6 would become completely useless and Q would bask in seeing his so called mother lose absolutely everything she held dear, just as he had done twice.

 

The best thing? It wasn’t even an overly complicated program. It relied on the heavily usage of internet, social media, smart phones and the countless security cameras that were all over the world. All that Q had to do was find a way to connect those things and then sit back and find anyone and everything he wanted by simply pushing a few buttons.

 

It was the type to thing that probably kept George Orwell up at night and Q admitted that he got the idea after reading ‘1984’, but he was sure that things wouldn’t go as far as they did in the novel. Well, at least not for a few hundred years – the world was getting there on its own anyway; Q just gave it a little push.

 

Boothroyd had been more than happy to help Q with his little plan when he saw that it had the potential to save so many people and, in less than a year, everything was operational and waiting to be pitched. It took another six months to find and plant their perfect mole to push their program and the man had done an excellent job.

 

“Make sure you also toast to Mister Denbigh,” Q said as he pried James’ hand from his knee and put it back on the gearshift. “His silver tongue was of great use to us and I’ve been told by a little bird that his presence there annoys M beyond reasoning.”

 

“Still a celebration of you, Q, and because of that I will do everything you tell me to,” the man promised, finally starting to drive again. “I will be your humble servant instead of your annoying, but lovable, business partner.”

 

Q started to laugh, hands around his stomach. “You only got the annoying part right and I’d pity whoever had you as a servant. You’d run away with their wife and gardener or pool boy just because you can, but only after blowing up their house.”

 

James screeched to a halt right in front of Q’s house and leaned so close to him that their noses were touching, eyes narrowed. “That sounds like a challenge. A challenge that I’d be willing to turn into a bet if you’re not too afraid to go against me, little Q?”

 

Placing his hands on James’ chest, Q smirked. “I like where this is going, Mister Bond.” He drew a little circle and tilted his head. “If you fail at being my servant for the following eight hours, from then on until the day I die, unless it is an emergency, you respect the traffic laws when I am in the car with you.”

 

“You have yourself a deal, although I do not drive that horrible.”

 

Arching his eyebrow, Q pushed James away, unbuckled his seatbelt and opened his shirt and jacket, showing him the forming bruise. “Then there was that time I bumped my head against the door, and another time when I bashed my face against the dashboard because you left before I buckled up, and the one when I spilled hot tea in my lap because you decided you were colour blind and red was actually green, and also the time in Venice when I got glass embedded in my back because you forgot to mention that MI6 was on our tail—”

 

James covered Q’s mouth. “You made your point, Q. I get it. I am a horrible driver and you suffered because of it. The second I move my hand away from your mouth, our bet starts.”

 

Q nodded, James smirked and jumped out of the car, opening the door for Q. He prepared his tub, his towels, his new suit, and even tried to help him undress. Q did let him come in to scrub his back – and damn James for being so good at massages because he instantly turned into goo – and help him wash his hair.

 

He dried himself up and put on a pair of boxers, but allowed James to help him with his pants, shirt and jacket, surprised when he blinked and realized that he suddenly had an actual tie hanging from his neck, James just finishing a very intricate knot.

 

“I never learned how to properly do these things,” Q said quietly, fixing James with his eyes in the mirror. “I almost strangled myself with one when I was a child and, try as he might, Boothroyd never managed to teach me.”

 

“My great Q, defeated by a simple tie?”

 

Q snorted. “Yeah, your great Q defeated by a tie. Mother always lost her patience and had someone do it for me and then Alex entered my life and...” He trailed off, James squeezing his shoulder. “I hate these things and if you ever trick me into wearing one, I will use one to hang you on the ceiling by your balls.”

 

James turned him around and ran his hands through his hair, trying to make a bit of sense of the wild locks that appeared to have a mind of their own. “Not one of my kinks so I will keep your warning in mind. I will also need to buy you a new Christmas present.”

 

The party was surprisingly wonderful. James had went all out and even ordered a four story cake – no man jumped out of this one like it did at Q’s birthday party, so Q loved it even more – and everybody toasted in his honour.

 

There was also a stack of gifts for him on a table and a lot of people were throwing ridiculous amounts of money at him to get him to leave James’ side and start working for them. Q made sure to remember each and every one of those names so he could talk to James about them later and decide if they were truly trustworthy or if they were going to betray them at the first sign of money or danger.

 

But what amused Q even more than the entertainment was the fact that James seemed to be in a war over who could satisfy him better with his date. He brought him his tea before the other man even had a chance to ask Q if he wanted something and, after the third glass of champagne, he started to send the waiter away.

 

“You’ve served at my parties before; don’t you remember that Q doesn’t drink more than that?” James growled when the man stopped with the tray in front of Q for the fifth time, the poor waiter looked like he was a word away from needing a new pair of pants. “Seriously, who hired you?”

 

Q rolled his eyes and decided to spare the poor man from more traumas. “According to my personal assistant,” he exchanged a smile with the man because James never could remember how he looked, “you did.”

 

He tried to stifle a yawn, failing and he was done rubbing his eyes and rearranging his glasses, he was staring at a smiling James who was holding on to his coat, his date slash assistant being shown to the door by two bodyguards.

 

“Seems your date has taken ill and it is up to me to see you home.” James tried to counter Q’s glare with his smile that had women glue themselves to him, but Q had seen it so many times that he could resist it for five minutes. “Nothing bad is going to happen to your personal assistant, Q, don’t worry.”

 

Q arched his eyebrow, letting James put his coat on. “Oh, now you recognize him as my assistant? Did you have someone do a background check on him the second you saw him?”

 

James shrugged. “I have to watch out for my partner, don’t I?” He started to do Q’s buttons, brushing his face. “Yes, I know I am being creepy and no, I am not sorry. I’m afraid that one of these days, you’ll end up in bed with an MI6 agent who will actually kill you instead of falling for you.” He linked their arms together and started to walk towards the door. “The window jumper was one.”

 

Of course he’d be gullible enough to fall for them, especially since most of them looked like Alex. “Get me a cat for Christmas so I can properly bid adieu to my sex life. Although escorts should be okay if I don’t use the same company for too long,” he added as an afterthought, lips pursed.

 

He felt like sulking, not because he had loved those men – he had done that three times already, the first two loves breaking his heart while he decided not to act on his third one since the man looked like he’d break what was left of it by accident – but because the bloody MI6 still played a role in his sex life. And he decided to sulk the second he got home.

 

He thanked James, pushed a bottle of expensive red wine from his private collection in his hands and then disappeared in the bathroom. He wasn’t going to sulk in the shower; this wasn’t worthy of that. No, he was going to dress up in his most comfortable pair of pyjamas, grab his laptop, go to the swing seat and pout while he ruined three or maybe four MI6 missions.

 

“Wait, I’ll ruin as many missions as MI6 agents came after me,” he grumbled, taking out his phone to call James, only to drop it when he heard it ring right behind him. “Christ, I’m happy I never came across you on the field, you bloody ninja. What are you still doing here?”

 

Bowing low, James held out a glass of wine. “I am still your servant for one more hour.” He winked, sat up straight, guided Q to his swing seat, draped a blanket around him and put the glass of wine in one of his hands after which he deposited his laptop in his lap. “Plus, you were calling me, so how may I help you?”

 

“I wanted to know with how many MI6 agents I slept with.” He smelled the wine before taking a sip, pleased to see that he had such good things in his collection.

 

“I assure you that none has touched you beyond a kiss,” James whispered in his ear, dragging his hands down Q’s back. “I either scared them away, bribed them into leaving you away or, and this was my favourite thing, scared them.”

 

“I need to give you something more than a simple bottle of wine for all that you did for me, but I have no idea what.” James hummed, his magical fingers easing all the tension out of his back and helping him relax. “Oh, is it too late to change the driving safely thing for back rubs every bloody night?”

 

James chuckled, his lips on Q’s ear again. “All you have to do is ask. The same for driving more carefully and again, I do apologize for that.” He pinched his neck and Q turned putty, a little moan escaping his lips.

 

Alec had instilled him a curiosity about James Bond that only grew when he heard the numerous rumours whispered in MI6’s dark corners. And at first, he had thought them to be simple exaggerations – Alec had loved the man and a spy agency was the type of environment that needed a God-like agent to keep everyone going – but then he met the man and he became a believer.

 

He understood how it was possible for James to have so many people fall for him in a short period with nothing more than a wink and a smile. He understood how he could extract all the information he needed not with torture, but with a simple backrub or kiss.

 

After he had officially become James’ business partner and after he had formed himself a veritable army of hackers that enabled them to enter MI6’s servers, the first thing Q did was steal the 007 mission reports before erasing them completely. He had hoped that that would put an end to his hunger, but realized that would probably happen if James was the one who told him the stories.

 

“Q? Q, the hour is up and I’ve won,” James whispered right in his ear, grabbing the empty glass before Q could drop it.

 

Trying to look at his phone without moving around too much because he’d brush his face against James’ lips and give away his attraction, Q hummed. “So you did. Congratulations on proving me wrong. What is the prize you want?”

 

James gently pushed Q’s head to the side, their lips brushing. He didn’t need to say anything after that and Q just closed his eyes and opened his mouth, accepting the kiss. He got lost in the taste and the warmth, moved to wrap his arms around James’ neck to push him closer and deepen the kiss, somehow ending up in the man’s lap.

 

Was he going to regret this? Probably in the long run. After all, one shouldn’t shit where he ate and all that. But the way James held him felt just too right and Q clung to him like he was afraid someone would steal him.

 

Still, if this was going to go further than this – and James hands under his shirt, fingers lightly pinching and twisting his nipple made it clear that it would – Q wanted to tell him about his time spent with Alec.

 

The kiss ended and he rested his head against James’ chest, enjoying the lingering spicy taste the man had.

 

“Alec was right,” Q whispered and felt the sharp intake of breath James took, his heart starting to beat faster. But he made no move to throw him away, so Q took that as a silent invitation to go on. “We were neighbours and friends. There might have been something there, but he wanted you to be present as well.” He tilted his head back and looked up at the statue that had become James, caressing his neck. “He loved you so much.”

 

“Alec had a good eye for special people,” James said slowly after a few moments of tense and awkward silence, pulling Q into another kiss.

 

He was more demanding this time and Q decided to screw the unwritten partnership rules and just give the man everything. Three years of holding back had been enough and he had been trained as a double oh agent, so he could ignore his own feelings until their mission was done.

 

And once MI6 no longer existed – in less than two months, if his calculations were right – he would sell everything he had, move to another country and wait for his heart to get the message and stop hurting so bad.

 

He ended up naked in the bed, under James, panting and sweating, getting closer and closer to the supposed heaven with each thrust. He tried to suppress his moans, but James wouldn’t have it, nibbling, suckling and moving in just the right way to make Q completely let go.

 

James growled something in his ear, but he was too far gone to understand him. All he felt was pleasure and all he heard was their moans and pants, a flash of light blinding him for a second before the sensation of floating took over. He felt lips on his ear, heard low murmurs and felt a damp cloth on him.

 

Q tried to move, get up and drag himself into the shower despite that, but James wouldn’t let him. “You are clean enough to eat off of, Q. Go to sleep; you’re exhausted,” he whispered and placed a little kiss on his forehead, tucking him in.

 

He realized that he did as he was told only when someone started to gently shake him while calling his name, surprised that to find out that the feelings of warmth and safety still stayed with him. It probably had something to do with the person that was plastered against his back, one arm thrown over his stomach, face buried in his neck.

 

“Sir, you have to wake up now if you don’t want to lose your plane,” his assistant whispered hurriedly. “Should I also wake up Mister Bond and call his car around?”

 

“No, no,” Q mumbled, finally managing to roll away from James. “Let him wake up on his own.” He nodded his thanks for the bathrobe, unable to help himself from running a hand down James’ face. “I have a feeling he forgot that my yearly trip to London, so please tell him if he asks.” He doubted James would be that interested in his comings or goings after their night together, but he could still hope.

 

His assistant coughed and looked away, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. “Might I tell him something more specific? Mister Bond gets testy to say the least when it comes to not knowing exactly where you are and if you are safe.”

 

Q sighed, rubbing his eyes. “I assure you that, after last night, he will be satisfied with just a simple mention of my whereabouts. If he even notices that I am gone, that is.” He tried his best to keep the disappointment out of his voice, failing miserably.

 

“Sir, if I may—“

 

“Have the driver bring the car around and take my hand luggage. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes,” Q interrupted the man, not in the mood to hear his well-intended yet misplaced reassuring. “And keep your voice down; I don’t think you’d want to deal with a moody James Bond.”

 

He couldn’t help but run his hand down James’ face, leaning over to plant a kiss on his neck as he better arranged the covers over him. Now if only he could decide if he felt happy, empty, cheap, or like a dirty cheater because of what day it was, that would be great.

 


	5. Tombstones 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Conclusion to the previous two chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the kudos and comments :)

 

It was for the first time in a long while that James woke up from feeling rested from a nightmare free sleep. Q had been the one person who convinced him by simply existing near him to give having an actual relationship another try. He went about it completely wrong, mostly by trying to make him jealous – the man just looked sadly at him for a second before trying to befriend his latest bed warmer. But now, he was in Q’s bed.

 

He stretched and basked in Q’s smell that drowned him, happy that he was finally in the man’s bed. Oh and he had stolen all the covers; poor Q.

 

“ _Well_ ”, he thought with a little grin as he rolled on his side, “ _this just means that I will have to rub against him until he is all warm and purring like the giant kitten he is_.” If only he could find the thin man in his giant bed.

 

He decided to open his eyes when he fell to the ground, growling at the clear lack of Q. Maybe he hadn’t been clear enough last night when he had told the man that he loved him, or maybe the man didn’t believe him. Not that he blamed him for that and he was frankly surprised when he found himself with a lap full of Q.

 

But it was okay. He’d just stroll into the kitchen – or wherever he was – wrap his arms around him, kiss his bite covered shoulder and confess again. It would take way more than those three little words, of that he had no doubt, but as long as Q didn’t laugh in his face and kick him out of his petite house, he had a chance at the happiness that always seemed to evade him.

 

Ten minutes and one empty house later, James was fuming. Clearly, he had done something extremely wrong and offended Q because there was no trace of his favourite laptop – which he had bought for him – the two backup batteries he took with him, his toothbrush – Q probably being the only human in existence who brought that with him despite checking in the most expensive hotels on Earth – and his phone was off.

 

Q almost never closed his phone and if he did, he always sent James a quick text before he did that in which he explained where he was, what he was doing and why it was imperative why he wasn’t disturbed.

 

Except for this time which meant that he had done something bad that chased the young man away. Maybe he thought James had used their spontaneous bet to get him in bed? That sounded about right, although he was sure Q knew him better than to think that he’d stoop so low.

 

He could take out of the equation Q being drunk because he had seen him when he was drunk and last night wasn’t it. “So, what the hell did I do?” He growled out, groaning when he realized that he had ruined yet another pair of eggs. Okay, Q would definitely never talk to him ever again if he burned his house down.

 

Small as it was and despite his best attempts to either keep Q in his house or get him to buy the mansion he felt the young man deserved, this house suited him. This house had ‘Q’ written in every corner and on every tile and he fell in love with it the instant he saw that rare, honest small smile that made Q look even more divine than he already was.

 

A noise caught his attention – step too heavy for Q; the mean unconsciously sneaked around and tried to be as quiet as possible due to his double oh training – and he grabbed one of the guns Q kept hidden in his cupboard. An intruder was exactly what he needed to blow some steam off.

 

“Mister Bond? Is something burning? I can cook for you or maybe order you breakfast, if that is what you wish.” He recognized the voice of Q’s personal assistant. Even better than a breathing punching bag. This mad had to know where Q was.

 

“What I wish is for you to tell me where Q went,” he said suddenly and the man let out a screech, holding his attaché case in front of his face. “I didn’t hurt you last night when you danced a bit too close to Q, so I won’t hurt you today either.”

 

“I have a fiancé which I love and that one dance happened like that because I had to tell him without shouting so as to not disturb the other guests that I had his flight tickets,” he whimpered, starting to slowly back towards the front door. “I also had my eyes closed when he got up from the bed, I promise.”

 

He felt a wave of heat wash over him, white spots starting to appear in front of his eyes. But he took a deep breath to calm himself down, like he did every time he saw a man lean close to Q and kiss him, or drape their arm around his shoulders and guide him away. “You mentioned plane tickets, which is more than clear that they were for today, but you didn’t mention to where.”

 

Gulping, the man kept glancing at the windows, probably thinking about jumping out through one. Great, now he had to worry about the man quitting on top of everything else. Today was definitely not his day, despite the great start it had.

 

“They were for London,” the poor man squeaked. He said that you might forget about his yearly trip there and that I should remind you in case you asked.” He took a deep breath and looked James straight in the eyes. “I tried to find out exactly where, but he seemed convinced that you wouldn’t care after last night.”

 

Freakishly accurate prediction, but that was Q for you. In James’ opinion, although the man was a decent field agent made deadly by the countless people who completely overlooked and underestimated him because he was so thin and meek, Q would have been a better Quartermaster.

 

So yes, he had forgotten about that yearly trip to London. And truth be told, he wanted to forget about it. He also wanted Q to forget about that trip, not he knew what Q was actually doing for that one day in London. The man never told him and he never asked, although the first time it happened, James had been on the edge because he thought that Q was still loyal to M - she was his mother, after all, and he had seen some people put up with so much just because they were related.

 

But the only bad thing that happened after Q came back from London was that he faked his smiles and laughter for a week, his eyes puffy and red from obvious crying every time James came to visit him in the morning.

 

The second year Q went, James realized that it had to be the anniversary of someone’s death. Maybe one of the reasons why Q was so bitter and why he hated his mother. That realization made him wish Q was a traitor, because he could deal with traitors just fine. Hell, he’d been surrounded by more traitors than people who loved him and were genuinely his allies. But dealing with a distraught you man, who had been forced into become a double oh agent and who he sometimes found with puffy, red yes, dressed in a shirt that was clearly too big for him went beyond him.

 

Then there was the last part of what the man said which proved beyond reason that Q hadn’t heard what he’d said. Or he did, but he thought it was a lie so he ignored it and labelled himself as nothing more than a one night stand. This was something he was going to have to fix and he’d start that by showing up at the airport. And also by making sure that the man in front of him didn’t quit.

 

“Listen, why don’t you take the day off today and I’ll go pick Q up at the airport?” He placed his hand on the man’s back, his charming smile on. “Actually, after you tell me his flight number, the time it’s supposed to touchdown and the name he is using, have the whole week off and go to somewhere in Tahiti, or Bahamas.”

 

“No, sir, I couldn’t—”

 

“Nonsense,” James insisted, not actually pushing him towards the door. “You said you have a fiancé, right? Take her with you and I will pay for everything.” Just don’t quit, Q’s favourite, because then Q would be even more sad than he already was.

 

And yes, he had to constantly remind himself that or else he’d listen to that dark whisper in the back of his mind and make the man that did him no wrong other than get on Q’s graces disappear just so he’d be his favourite. Because James was a jealous man who didn’t know where he stood in Q’s heart.

 

Was he a friend with benefits? Was he no more than what all the women and men had been to him after Vesper and Alec up until Q? Or was he more than that person whom Q had taken care of even before they knew each other? Did he matter more than a personal assistant who sometimes made Q laugh with so much ease that James wanted to rip out his tongue just so he’d be the only one to do that?

 

“Well, there is nothing major planned for the following week, so I guess I could take a bit of time off,” the assistant muttered, chewing on his finger, frowning deeply. “I had been meaning to ask for some.”

 

He smiled at James and James tried to give him a nonthreatening smile back, probably failing.

 

James presented himself at the arrival gate just at Q’s plane was landing, dressed in his best suit, freshly shaved and wearing the one aftershave that Q loved – and didn’t know that James knew about it.

 

And he waited. And waited. And waited. And when the next flight landed, he all but stomped to the information desk. He could spot Q’s messy mop that was his incredibly soft brown hair from a mile away, so he knew that he hadn’t been on the plane. But he didn’t allow the sharp claw of panic to grip his heart until he was told that no one under that name had booked another flight.

 

“Can you please check again?” James almost pleaded, clutching the edge of the desk tightly to keep himself from exploding. “My partner is so terrified of flying and I want to know if I should take a plane to get him myself or if I should be ready to help him avoid a panic attack.”

 

Q would have scolded him for blowing out of proportion his strong distaste of flying, but this was an emergency. He wasn’t where he was supposed to be at the right hour when he constantly scolded James for showing up late anywhere. So him doing the same out of his own free will was out of the question.

 

“I am so sorry sir, but I cannot find any reservation under that name,” the woman said, leaning over her desk to rest her hands over one of his. “One of the low-cost companies has a flight for London scheduled in two hours; I suggest you get tickets from them,” she whispered.

 

“I think I’ll do just that, thank you very much.” He pulled out a wad of cash from his wallet and slipped it to the woman, walking away before he’d be forced to waste even more time that he already had.

 

He had their IT team search to see if Q had booked new tickets under another one of his many aliases, but no one could find anything. And James did not like that one bit. He didn’t feel that Q would sell him to MI6 – but something told him that he had to find him as fast as possible.

 

“Boot up Q’s brainchild and track his every movement since the second he left his house until now.” He should have insisted on some form of trackers for both him and Q, but that was too much like MI6 and neither of them wanted to be reminded of that.

 

Q the house dressed in the best suit he had, travel mug clutched to his chest, and got into the car. Nothing interesting happened on the way to the airport or while he waited for the plane to board – James noted that he was chewing his lips, bouncing his foot and not really paying attention to what was on his laptop; pre-flight jitters which made James wished he was there to provide him with his usual distraction.

 

His first stop in London was a flower shop which, according to one of James’ technicians, was the most expensive one. He came out with two large bouquets of flowers, a black ribbon around each of them.

 

The more curious boffins on James’ payroll checked to see what they each meant, but for James the red roses each bouquet had was more than enough. Love, he scoffed, hands crossed over his chest. And two of them, no less.

 

He regretted his thoughts when Q entered a cemetery. Not just any cemetery, of course, but the same one where Alec had been buried. James had memorized the trip to Alec’s final resting place despite being there only when they had stuck him in the ground so he instantly knew that Q was visiting someone else.

 

“Find out who’s buried there,” James ordered and he actually had to glare a few seconds at the man in charge of that because Q was seen as a God by the boffins and neither one wanted to respect his privacy. “He’s missing,” James added for good measure and in a few second, he had all the information he needed to know on the main screen.

 

James felt a bit jealous when he saw the man’s picture, admitting to himself that Q had great tastes when it came to men. He was tall, had a chiselled face that would make a Greek statue envious, blue eyes that sometimes looked grey, former MI6 agent, proposed for double oh program five times, single child, parents still alive, and died while in the field.

 

He watched as Q got on his knees in the dirt and started to clean the grave, muttering something and smiling softly as he brushed his hand over the man’s picture. He tried not to read his lips, but he still saw him apologize for something and then mentioning his name with a small smile on his lips.

 

Q kissed the picture and then walked away, heading in the direction of Alec’s grave and James felt horrible when he saw how the man’s grave looked. It took Q a good fifteen minutes to clean it properly and he talked with Alec about how James was doing, face turning red when he mentioned the previous night.

 

James realized that a few of the boffins had turned to glare at him and he was more than happy to return their looks, eyes narrowed, teeth bared as if to say that Q was officially off the market from that moment on.

 

“Sir, it seems that the MI6 head is standing right behind Q,” one of the boffins said in a trembling voice and James turned his head around so fast, his neck hurt.

 

Q didn’t flinch when the woman spoke up, but his shoulders sagged and his face lost all trace of emotion. M was fuming, calling him a traitor, a disappointment and the biggest mistake of her life, asking why he left MI6 and why he did what he did.

 

“ _Someone like Bond does not deserve your loyalty_ ,” she was saying and Q was busying himself with arranging the flowers. “ _I am willing to overlook the fact that you ignored your bloody duties to be that useless bastard’s fuck toy if you come to Vauxhall this instant and tell us what you two are up to. That useless man is bound to be bored of you by now anyway._ ”

 

James wasn’t sure of exactly what upset Q, but the man turned away from the camera, his body tense and he started to talk. Whatever he was saying greatly shocked M because the woman actually took a step back, her eyes wide.

 

She struck him. Hard. So hard that Q’s glasses – James had gifted him with the best contact lenses on the market, but they had made Q’s eyes water and turn red – flew off his face and James was sure his cheek would be swollen.

 

She didn’t stop there and James breath caught in his throat when he saw her pull a gun and pointed at her own son. “ _It’s time I correct my biggest mistake_ ,” her lips said and cocked the gun, James forgetting how to breathe entirely.

 

Thank God for Eve and her improved aim because the woman shot the gun out of M’s hand as she stepped in the camera’s view, grabbing Q – who had taken a step towards his mother because of course he was still worried for her, the silly, carrying man that he was – just as a storm of bullets started to rain on them.

 

And then the image went fuzzy, the other cameras in the cemetery following suit as they were systematically shot by M’s hound dogs. At least James saw Q and Eve jump in a car before they were left completely in the dark.

 

“This happened four hours before he was supposed to return. We can’t find the woman’s car anywhere on the CCTV,” James growled and cracked his knuckles, “but we might be able to track him down if we isolate her phone signal,” he added hurriedly, gulping.

 

“Make sure I have that information before I land in London.”

 

Even the one hour and a half it took him to reach London in his private jet seemed too long for him and by then, his men knew to keep their heads down and their mouths shut. It did no one any good when they tried to cheer him up or make him feel better, so they opted to let him be – Q was the only one who could bring James out of his sour moods anyway and they really hoped they’d find him as healthy as it was possible.

 

On the surface, London looked normal. People were rushing from one station to another, tourists were huddling in large crowds around the Buckingham Palace to either try to get one of the guards to move or see the guard change and police officers were doing their best to keep the traffic going in the intersections where the stop lights had gave out.

 

But James knew better. Having been trapped in the world that no one really sees, his eyes were trained to pick up on the subtle things, such as the few tourists who weren’t really taking pictures of whatever place they were visiting but of certain cars and the police officers keeping traffic in place long enough for the technicians who were supposedly working on fixing the faulty stop to send pictures of everyone to MI5 and/or MI6.

 

They were clearly searching for someone and by the way one of the ‘tourist’s’ eyes popped out of his head, they weren’t expecting to find James Bond.

 

And he was so tempted to go to the man, give him a good shake and ask him to give M a message from him. But getting Q back was more important that giving the old bitch an aneurysm.

 

Eve’s phone signal led them to an old abandoned warehouse that used to be an MI6 hideout and James narrowly avoided getting electrocuted by a wounded Q and shot by an almost feral Eve.

 

“Don’t take it the wrong way, but what are you doing here?” Q asked in an obviously pained voice, dropping his makeshift taser so he could pull his coat better around his wound.

 

In a single stride, James was by his side, pulling his jacket off and carefully examining the wound, not liking the colour around it. “Saving my literally bloody partner. Please don’t tell me this happens every year.”

 

The bullet was still in there and he was tempted to stuff his tie in Q’s mouth and hold him down until he dug it out, but he held himself back. He had the right tools in his car – since a quick glance around them told him that the former safe-house was completely devoid of anything that might be useful – and he had paid a private hospital to have an ambulance with a doctor on standby next to his plane.

 

“Until this year, she didn’t really think you two were an actual threat, so Q had no trouble coming over and having coffee with me,” Eve spoke up, looking awkwardly at James. “Hello, James, sorry to have to see you again in such circumstances.”

 

“You stopped that woman from killing my Q,” he planted a kiss on the young man’s forehead, surprising her. “So I am not complaining about the circumstances right now.” He waited for his men to tell him that the coast was clear before walking out, gun drawn. “I am complaining, however, that someone snuck from away in the middle of the night and went in the middle of enemy territory without means to protect himself.”

 

Q groaned, rolling his eyes. “I had changed the dates of their deaths and funerals. I never thought M would...” He trailed off and got in the car, James pushing Eve in the front seat before getting in next to Q. As far as James was concerned, it went without saying that she was coming with them.

 

“To be honest, I never though she’s point a gun at her own son despite having sent you to sleep with me to get me back,” James admitted, pushing Q’s head against his chest and carefully putting his arm around him. “Though she did allow for an innocent woman to be used as bait against a terrorist and permitted her to be tortured for weeks on end.”

 

He didn’t really like to think of the damaged Elektra, having cared for the woman – not loved, but cared. If only he could have pretended not to hear M call for him and carried on saving Istanbul without allowing that wretched, evil Queen of numbers to take another breath.

 

Mistakes of the youth, which he couldn’t regret 100% because it brought Q to him – he ignored the voice in his head that pointed out Alec was already friends with the young man when M’s past mistakes had almost killed her which meant that he would have met Q anyway and only one tombstone would have to be cleaned and visited every year.

 

“I hope you have a bag of my blood type somewhere because I am starting to get really dizzy and my arm is going numb,” Q muttered and the driver didn’t have to be told to step on it, James giving him an apologetic look before shoving a pair of tweezers in his arm to get the bullet out.

 

He expected to meet M at the airport and the woman did not disappoint. She was ready to fight them, shoot them in the limbs and then throw them in the MI6 holding cells, but Q was more than happy to point out how that would have end for her.

 

“Neither of us is armed, not even the guards.” Q had told them to throw their guns and the men looked at James for confirmation because he was a bit tipsy and he smelled like alcohol from a kilometre away. “People are already staring, ready to film and post on the web what they see and I am sure that the little clip of you attacking me, unprovoked, in the cemetery will make big waves.”

 

“You two are terrorists,” M hissed, eyes narrowed. “Threats to country and Queen. There is no way I or MI6 will come out as the bad guys from this.”

 

James took Q’s hand and kissed it, to the delight of a few people. “Since the both of us are known to the world as co-owners of a company that produces computer parts and because everyone just saw me be affectionate towards my partner,” he said that word slightly louder and Q moved closer to him, glaring at him even as he rested his head on his chest, “you will be seen as the homophobic parent with too much power that lost her mind and shot her son and his lover.”

 

M had enough of a brain to realize that he was speaking the truth and stepped aside to let them pass, keeping her man in check. This wasn’t going to be the last time they meet and James was sure that the second MI6 fell, she would be free to come after them. And they would be more than ready for her.

 

“I am thinking about moving both Alex and Alec to Italy,” James said softly as he helped Q buckle his seatbelt. “But before we talk about that, we need to discuss what happened between us last night.”

 

Q looked sad and James blamed the many painkillers he was on for the young man openly showing his he was feeling. “We do not need to discuss about anything, James. I know how things work for you so I do not expect anything to—“

 

“I meant what I told you last night and what I told M,” James interrupted him, holding his hand up to keep Eve from strangling him. “As far as I am concerned, we are lovers.” He cupped Q’s face and kissed him, distracting him from the plane taking off.

 

Q flinched when he tried to wrap his arms around James – and the doctor was lucky that he was not in the plane with them because he had guaranteed James that Q wouldn’t be able to feel anything for the next few hours – but smiled in the kiss so all was right in the world.

 

“I don’t remember what you said last night,” Q admitted the second the kiss was over, resting his head on James’ chest.

 

James clicked his tongue, nuzzling the top of Q’s head. “Well, I might have panted it out more than said it and you were busy trying to get closer to me. I would be more than happy to say it again now, if you want.”

 

A few of the men coughed and dug around for something to busy themselves with, Eve’s mouth opened in shock. Seemed that everything was shocking her today, although she was happy that the two had found companionship, understanding and what she thought to be love in each other.

 

“I don’t think I’d remember it if you did,” Q slurred, smiling when James unbuckled his seatbelt and pulled him in his lap.

 

“Then I’ll say it again and again and in front of the world when M finally pays for what she did to you, to me and everyone else.” He brought his lips close to Q’s ears and whispered loud enough for everyone to hear those three little words that Eve thought could never sound real coming from him and Q smiled.

 

Well, won’t Boothroyd and Tanner faint when they hear about this new development.

 


	6. Quartermaster Wanted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sweet Silverwolf666 requested that our favourite double ohs go rogue after MI6 tried to kill Alec and that Q is a brilliant young man who both they and MI6 want as their Quartermaster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Technically, I am not done with it. I am still doing the last chapter, but I should be done with it by Monday. I did fail to meet some parts of the request and I am sorry, but... The story does what it wants?
> 
> I got the blue screen of doom and lost 3,000 words of it, kept forgetting about a time skip and I had to delete and start all over and so on and so forth.
> 
> But! I still hope Silverwolf666 and everyone who reads still manages to enjoy it <3

Up until this point, they had foolishly thought they were special. For whatever reason, they were sure that they meant more to M, to MI6, to the bloody Prime Minister, and that they would never be treated like simple tools that were easy to replace. They couldn’t have been more wrong if they tried.

 

It wasn’t that James or Bond were gullible – since a double oh agent who was that, usually dead within the first ten minutes of the start of any mission – or that their brains got washed – they had killed more zealots and indoctrinated people than they could count in two hundred lifetimes – but they had honestly thought MI6 saw them as more simple numbers.

 

M gave them more room to move, always closing her eyes when they did something that cost them thousands of pounds and the worst punishment she imparted on them was a literal slap on their wrists and a scolding.

 

Since they both were orphans, they saw her as their mother, tough and stern, a woman made out of ice and steel for the world, but kind and understanding when no one looked. She always fought nail and tooth to keep the double oh programme well founded and to protect her agents, so when she hanged her head in defeat and actually agreed when the CIA proposed to offer Alec as a sacrificial lamb to the KGB in exchange for some missile plans which she could have gotten though another way, they felt like they saw their mothers die all over.

 

Something seemed off when James was grounded for something insignificant that had no effect on MI6 – slept with the daughter of a German diplomat representative in Bengal during a honeypot mission – and Alec was presented with minimal information about his newest mission. Even the gadgets he got from the good old Major that always went out of his way to give them the best tools he had even though they never returned them were subpar.

 

“Budget cuts?” Alec tried to joke, but that only got the Major even more upset.

 

“Without my knowledge and in the middle of the month,” he said, pulling out a thin piece of paper from under a mountain of cogs and sprockets and waving it in front of him. “They even sent some pencil pusher down here to _confiscate_ most of my gadgets, claiming that they had to be analysed or whatever.”

 

“Bureaucrats, am I right?” Alec tried to joke again, sending James a single word message – treachery.

 

The Major sighed, pulling Alec in a tight hug, which was a first for the man even if he did care for them. “Please watch yourself out there, 006. You know far better than this raggedy old man how misleading everything is in the field.”

 

That was a warning if Alec ever heard one. But the Major did even more than that and helped James trail after his partner from the shadows, although he couldn’t give them anything else than a gun with silencer, a credit card that he’d struggle to make untraceable, a small radio that was waterproof – which enabled him to hear what was being said in the main MI6 observation room from which M gave orders during missions – and a fake passport. Anything else he needed, he’d have to steal.

 

The little radio proved to be the most important thing that James got since it enabled him to hear M order everyone to ditch Alec. As he rushed to the main room, killing guards left and right, the building shook and then an alarm went off, everybody starting to evacuate as the self-destruct sequence was activated.

 

He reached Alec just as a piece of debris fell on top of him and with inhuman strength that resulted from an adrenaline rush, James freed his partner, threw him over his shoulder and jumped into the ocean, somehow surviving and various MI6 employees with the good Major yelling on top of their lungs to M in his ear that 006 could _still_ be saved if she gave the nearby extraction team the order to intervene.

 

“ _All agents are to stand down,_ ” her cold voice drifted through the coms. “ _006 has died in the line of duty—”_

_“His tracker is still active and I am still getting life signals from him,_ ” one of the boffins cut her off, James realizing that the man was new to MI6 since he dared to interrupt the Iron Woman.

 

“ _I said that the agent was lost!”_ She snapped. “ _Turn off all of his trackers and call the time of death,_ ” she continued in an emotionless voice. “ _Someone inform Miss Moneypenny about the need for a eulogy for Alec Trevelyan and task Tanner with finding a new agent to take 006’s place._ ”

 

James clutched tighter to the passed out Alec and tried to keep them afloat, looking around for anything he might use as a boat. “Major?” He breathed out in the radio, his voice barely a whisper.

 

“ _Oh, thank God_ ,” the man whispered. “ _Please tell me Alec is alive,”_ he pleaded, sound like he was barely holding back actual sobs.

 

“His face is covered in blood and he’s unconscious, but alive.” But he didn’t know if he’d last too long if he didn’t get immediate medical attention. “Can you help us? Can you get someone here after us?”

 

The major hesitated for a few seconds that felt like hours, especially since the water around them refused to stay free of water and Alec visibly turned whiter. _“The MI6 agents will not come,_ ” he started and James’ entire body became heavier, as if Death itself was swimming under them and had grabbed on to his feet, ready to drag him under the water. “ _But I have someone on the mainland with a speedboat and medical connections that might be able to help you. You just have to hold on for half an hour. Can you do that?”_

 

“I can because the worst thing I have is a scratch on my forehead, but I am not so sure about Alec,” he growled out.

 

“ _Make sure he does, Bond_.” And then the radio connection went silent and James felt abandoned.

 

James did the only thing he could do at that point: talk. At first, it was just silly things he had read in the newspapers on his way there, then about how the flight attendant kept winking at him and trying to help him join the mile high club - “little did she know that I have already joined it a long time ago with you” – which led him to start thinking about their past and how they came to be joined at the hip and keepers of what was left of each other’s hearts.

 

"I wanted to knock all of your teeth out when I first met you,” he said weakly, trying his best not to panic or think of the worst thing possible because Alec had gone completely cold and his lips had turned a soft shade of blue. “We almost got into a fight in front of the Major over who would drive the car on our second mission together and he stuck us both in a Beetle that was only bullet proof.” He placed his lips against Alec’s temple and wished magical kisses existed. “And later that night we got kicked out of our hotel room because we were fucking too loudly and keeping everyone up.”

 

He almost bit the hand that seemingly came from nowhere and grabbed on to Alec. “Never met a shark in these waters, lad; plan on shooting it if I ever do. Now, do you want see how led tastes when it’s mixed with blood or do you want me to help your friend?”

 

Alec had barely made it alive on shore and ever everything was said and done, he was in a deep coma. James never left his side, acting like his nurse and guardian, suspicious of everyone by Boothroyd’s friend. He washed him, helped change him, made sure the IV bags were always full all the while listening in on what was going on in MI6 - courtesy of the Major who always accidentally turned it back on when something important was being discussed.

 

He heard her refer to them as targets and traitors, putting prices on their heads and accusing Boothroyd of sheltering them - which, technically, wasn’t exactly right; it was one of his friends and not the Quartermaster himself who was currently helping them. And the thing that almost made him cry was hearing Boothroyd retire.

 

“ _As I lost two of our best agents, I feel that I can no longer be the Quartermaster_.” His voice was so full of pain and sorrow that James wished he could reach through the radio and give the man a hug as he apologized for all the stupid stunts they had pulled over the years.

 

 _“Don’t be ridiculous, Major. You know better than I do that those two bastards are alive and well._ ” She sounded relieved when she said that, but James could not find it in himself to trust anything related to her anymore. “ _The rest of our agents need—”_

_“A Quartermaster who can outfit them according to the type of field they step in and provide them with right information to keep them alive, yes I completely agree,”_ Boothroyd interrupted M, leaving no room for argument.

 

“ _As you wish, Major,”_ M grumbled a few seconds later and James could easily picture the old man smiling triumphantly at her.

He felt like he was hearing the man’s funeral even though Boothroyd was one of the few lucky ones who got to walk away from MI6 on his own two legs. Though he hadn’t seen the man as a father or even a grandfather, he had acted as his and Alec’s dedicated teacher who tried to keep them afloat and keep them in the light, trying his best to teach them respect all the while protecting them from the evils of the world.

 

But on the bright side, now that MI6 was without a Quartermaster, they didn’t have to relocate for quite a while. Maybe even long enough for Alec to wake up – and when a treacherous voice whispered ‘ _if_ ’ in his ear, James snapped and kicked the chair against the wall.

 

“Waking up with you next to me doesn’t clear up my living dilemma,” Alec croaked and flashed James an attempt at a cocky smile that ended up being tired. “You get into as much trouble as I do and hand around Death’s door more than me, so–”

 

James interrupted Alec with a kiss, practically throwing himself over the wounded man. That sent the heart monitor haywire and the old doctor came rushing his, having absolutely no trouble pulling James away and throwing him back in his chair.

 

“I will not let you undo all my hard work because you couldn’t hold it in your pants and if his heart does that again, I will throw you out even if Boothroyd is your friend,” the doctor warned, checking to make sure that none of Alec’s stitched had torn. “And don’t you even think about giving me any mouth, young man,” he added when James opened his mouth.

 

“Cheating on me already, James? At least go for someone a little younger,” he tried to joke, flinching when the doctor adjusted the needle in his arm. “Why aren’t we in London? How pissed off is M that I screwed up the mission? It wasn’t my fault this time, honestly. The building just…” He waved his hands around and groaned, clearly needing morphine not that he was awake.

 

James’ face darkened. “You screwed up the mission when you didn’t die.” He sounded hollow and it fit, because that’s how he felt.

 

He told Alec everything he knew, holding his hand as he crumbled before him - he had lost his mother in a much more horrifying way than James had and he was just a tad more attached to M.

 

“We still have each other,” he said carefully, squeezing Alec’s hand. “I’ll never betray you and I know you’ll be just as loyal.” In a rare careful show of affection – because, for them, shooting someone who was about to see either one of them and them making out over the attackers body was how they silently declared their love for each other – James placed a soft kiss on Alec’s knuckles, pushing his face against it.

 

He had hoped to calm Alec down with that, but it only served to make even more irritated and anxious and James had to help the doctor keep him in the bed. “We can’t let her win, James, and if we pull back now, it will be as if we admit defeat. If we stay dead, her treachery would go unpunished—”

 

“Alec, Alec, calm down. I never said we’re retiring,” James said quickly. “We’re not going to take this lying down, but if you don’t clam down and if you do not allow yourself enough time to recover…” He trailed off and glanced at the doctor, hoping that this would be the first time in Alec’s life in which he wouldn’t consider his healer a quack that had no idea what he was talking about.

 

“You are not out of the red zone, Mister Trevelyan. You wounds can still get infected if they are not treated properly and if that happens, at best, half of your face will be paralyzed. Death being the worst case scenario,” he muttered, sighing in relief when he felt Alec relax.

 

“And for how long will I be this useless?” Alec growled, turning his head away when James tried to caress his good side of the face.

 

The doctor hummed, carefully checking Alec’s wounds again and what was written in the file he kept next to his bed. “It depends on how fast you heel, but if you cooperate and do as you’re told, it should take three months top even if you are slow to recover. You can seek a plastic surgeon—”

 

“No. My face will remain as it is.” He grinned, though James could see hurt in his eyes. “A lot of women go for the wounded type and it will make things so much easier for us when we start stealing MI6’s missions. Right, James?”

 

If that was how Alec wanted revenge, then he was down for it. “I will make the necessary arrangements,” he said slowly. “Doctor, if it is alright with you, we would like to stay here until he heals. MI6 has…some issues regarding their employees and they will not be able to track us.”

 

The man nodded. “I did talk with Boothroyd a few days ago and he told me what he planned on doing. However, he did say that his R was decently trained, so MI6 might be back up its feet before your partner.”

 

“I heal fast,” Alec intervened, eyes widening as the room around him started to spin, the morphine finally kicking in. “Oh wow, I don’t want to chop half of my face off.” He struggled to grab James’ hand a few times, apparently unaware that he was, in fact already holding it.

 

“Do you want me to bring you anything, bear?” James asked, looking scared at the doctor.

 

“Couldn’t feel you for a moment,” Alec muttered. “Actually, I’m starting to feel like I am floating.” He closed his eyes and shook his head. “This is a horrible feeling, really. I hate not being in control.”

 

“Just the morphine kicking in,” the doctor assured him.

 

With the help of Boothroyd, James managed to sell everything both he and Alec owned. He also emptied a few of his bank accounts and used the money to start up an agency of their own. They were far from being legal as they planned on using it to serve their own needs, but they weren’t exactly evil because they didn’t want world domination. It was just a form of revenge.

 

Boothroyd’s friend decided to stay on as their personal doctor - something they were both thankful since he did not take any of their bullshit nor did he allow them to intimidate him - and they hired a few people to act as guards, ‘upgrading’ those who showed a lot of potential to a different type of active field duty.

 

By then Alec had fully recovered and got a ton of kicks out of showing up in the middle of MI6 missions and stealing their prize from right under their noses. James was his back up, lingering in the shadows with a sniper rifle and incapacitating the agents who dared to turn a weapon towards his lover without being provoked.

 

Not that the MI6 agents they encountered knew what they were doing. Not because they were the incompetent ones, but because MI6 had yet to find a decent Quartermaster. Boothroyd’s replacement was sub-par to say the least. The man couldn’t read a map to save his life - MI6 had raided one of their warehouses after one of their own IT guys sold them erroneous information that was topped off with a map of how to get there and the bloody idiot managed to direct the agent in the exact opposite place where it was- and he was rubbish when it came to building devices.

 

Alec and James usually spotted the MI6 agents by the obvious devices they carried around with them and two of them even died before they faced anyone because one of the gadgets malfunctioned. And it wasn’t even a nice death: one was electrocuted while he got injected with poison in his stomach and the second one exploded in the middle of an airport. A third one almost died, but Alec took pity on him and ripped the device out of his jacket - he had no idea what it was supposed to do - before he could die and called the ambulance, but the man still ended up badly wounded.

 

They weren’t faring better in the IT department either. Though they had decent people working for them, but they just didn’t know how to work as a team. No matter how many 'team building’ exercises both he and Alec enforced on them, their IT specialists always competed with each other and some of them even went as far as to sabotage their colleagues if they thought they were better than them. Finding someone to lead them was even harder.

 

Not only did they want someone capable of forcing the annoying boffins to work side by side and put the good of the people in the field above the size of their pay checks, but they also wanted someone who was capable of building all sort of interesting things to catch MI6 and the rest of the agencies off guard, but that was slowly starting to prove to be impossible - which explained why MI6 clung so desperately to their incompetent one.

 

In the almost three years that they had successfully ran their organization and made it one of the most powerful ones in the world, feared by many and respected by all, they had gone through exactly 36 would-be Quartermasters, number 37 being the only one who crossed so many lines that Alec shot him while everyone in the room gave him a standing ovation.

 

His name had been Boris Grishenko and the second that his eyes landed on him, James disliked him – it took Alec a conversation to put him on his black list. The man looked like a weasel and the way he interacted with his female colleagues made both James and Alec sick to their stomachs.

 

They had berated him in private and in front of the department for everyone to see numerous times, but the man simply did not understand. “I’m just joking,” he defended himself. “Not my fault their breasts are bigger than their brains and they do not get that.” That earned him a punch in the face from Alec that sent him to the ground and a kick in the stomach from James.

 

“If I ever catch you leering at someone again or if I hear anyone of them just whisper about feeling like you were looking at them in a certain way, I will castrate you and shove your balls down your throat,” Alec hissed, James stepping on his groin area.

 

They would have loved to get rid of him, but the man was good at what he did. He managed to block the CIA’s attempts at finding their exact location – although he had been helped by everyone and by the end of those five hours, he had been reduced to a sniffling worm who kept asking them for more money – and, on paper, he had great gadget ideas.

 

But his apparent brilliance couldn’t help him safe when James and Alec caught wind of his plans of selling them to the KGB. Woe unto poor, foolish Boris for getting in contact with an agent that considered the two of them to be very good friends.

 

They had their guards drag the man to the newest building they had acquired which they planned on turning into their R&D department and, under the threat of being executed, gave the man three days to build three of his ideas.

 

“If they are successful and they actually work, we will triple your current fee, buy you an island and give you an extra hundred thousand for each new gadget that works without a hitch,” explained James, opening the attaché case he had with him to show Boris the money.

 

The man’s eyes almost popped out of his head and he almost got his fingers hurt when he tried to touch the money, only for James to slam the attaché shut. “Make the care the newest Ferrari, _in red_ , and I will even throw an exploding pen into this.”

 

In reality, both of them that the man would be smart enough to get his head out of his ass and use the tools he had at his disposal to run away from there. They would have hounded him for a few weeks, keep him from meeting the KGB agent until they had changed their main headquarters, and then let him live. But Boris had to be a complete idiot until the end.

 

When the three days were up, they walked in to find him sitting in the middle of a messy room, drunk off his ass with absolutely nothing to show. “Bosses, I was just about to start on the pen,” he slurred, wobbling. “But what are you two doing here? Didn’t you say that you were going to come back in three days or something?”

 

Alec glanced at James, eye twitching. “It’s been three days,” he hissed slowly. “Can I shoot him now?”

 

James shook his head, despite how tempted he was to do so himself. “You have two hours to make an exploding pen,” he told the sobbing mess.

 

Of course Boris didn’t meet his deadline. Oh he turned the pen deadly all right; by constantly clicking it as he walked around the room, handling explosives and all sort of dangerous materials, to the point that their bodyguards were pleading with them to vacate the building until the man blew himself up.

 

“Just about got it,” Boris assured them over his shoulder, now pushing disgusting magazines off his work table. “Just need to put this thing here…” He tried to shove a piece that was obviously too big in the pen’s tube, cussing in Russian.

 

The two men had enough when the man suddenly threw the unfinished gadget against the wall, causing a small explosion. “Just give me—”

 

In a swift motion, Alec pulled his gun out and shot Boris right between the eyes, his lifeless body crumbling to the ground. “The world can thank me for getting rid of this disgusting creature by sending us a proper Quartermaster,” he grumbled as he leaned on James, nuzzling his neck. “Tigr, I have a headache. Fix it, please?”

 

Leaving their men to deal with Boris’ body as they knew best, James guided Alec in their favourite car, placing his hand on his tight. “I think I have the perfect cure for it, darling. Just try not to distract me even more than you are when I drive.” He bit down hard on Alec’s lower lip, drawing blood that was licked from his lips.

 

“I’ll do my best, but I can’t promise anything.”

 

Alec’s best got them a wrecked car, a broken arm each and multiple scratches on their bodies as well as an angry personal doctor shouting in their faces until his turned red. It was amusing to see the normally calm man that was as pale as they came turn so angry, but not so amusing when he started hitting them with their medical records over their heads. They had no idea the files where thick enough to hurt.

 

“I had some information for you two,” the man said after he had finished drinking a nice cup of camomile tea, “but I don’t think you deserve it.”

 

“We are children that can be grounded, you know,” Alec chimed in, earning himself a glare and another smack over the head.

 

“Well, you bloody well act like it. You were very close to dying. If your head hadn’t been in James’ lap…” The man trailed off and took a deep breath, slowly shaking his head.

 

“If I promise never to give James a blow job while he’s—”

 

“I’ll tell you if you promise to not finish that sentence,” the doctor cut in, looking like he wanted to inject Alec with all the morphine in the world to keep him silent.

 

“You have yourself a deal.” Alec moved to shake hands with the doctor, flinching and groaning because he had somehow managed to forget that he had broken it.

 

“For the love of…” He pushed his hand back against his chest and checked it. “Geoffrey was right; you two need to grow up. I am tempted to offer both of you lollipops to keep you from acting up when I check you over since you both like sucking on things so much, but I’d be tempted to dip them in glue to keep you both from ever talking again.”

 

James snorted and bit his lip for a moment, to keep himself from saying something that would end up with a syringe shoved in his arm. “You remind us of the Major too much not to tease, especially since you keep telling us to grow up. Will either one of you stop telling us to do that?”

 

“I don’t know about Geoffrey, but I’ll stop only when both of you actually follow that solid piece of advice.”

 

“We never will,” sing sang Alec, moving out of the way just in time to avoid getting hit with the folder again.

 

The poor man looked like he wanted to crawl under his desk and start crying. “Geoffrey said as much,” he muttered dejectedly. “And speaking of Geoffrey, the little bit of information I have for you comes from him.” All traces of mischief were gone from their faces and they stood up straight, devoting all of their attention to the man. “He knows that you are searching for a Quartermaster—”

 

“We could never ask him to join us,” James quickly interrupted him, Alec nodding in agreement.

 

The doctor rolled his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, shoving two aspirin pills down his throat. “That wasn’t where I was going with this. Honestly, for two former spies who are supposed to know how to wait patiently, you two are beyond horrible at doing that.” He contemplated on whether or not he should take another pill before placing the bottle in his drawer. “Geoffrey has a sort of nephew who is kind of a genius.”

 

“I didn’t know Boothroyd had one,” mumbled James, sounding disappointed. “I knew he had a wife, but he never mentioned anything about having a child or grandchild.”

 

“The boy is not his actual nephew but due to certain circumstances, Geoffrey treated him as if he was related to him.” You couldn’t exactly call this clarifying since his words only made Alec and James want to know more, but it was clear he didn’t really want to explain what had happened. “He cares about the boy _a lot_ and MI6 is currently after him because the boy repeatedly turning their offers down and even crashing their servers when they became too insistent.”

 

James did not hide his surprise nor did Alec. MI6’s servers where not that easy to hack and everyone that had tried that in the past ended up getting caught within the first two minutes of accessing them.

 

“On top of practically breathing and sweating code, the boy is also an excellent inventor. I think I remember Geoffrey mentioning something about you two testing out some of the prototypes he had created without your boss’ knowledge,” the doctor continued, unlocking his phone to show them the picture he had of Q.

 

He looked extremely young, younger than Boris even, but they wouldn’t actually call him a boy. Still, James even zoomed in to see if he had spots, although he was distracted by the boy’s intense green and pleasant eyes, a feeling of familiarity gnawing at the back of his mind. His wild brown hair that looked like five birds had decided to make a nest out of served to bring out his eyes even more and the stylish glasses added an air of a hipster to him that for whatever reason, didn’t have James rolling his eyes.

 

“Are you sure we didn’t meet him already? What’s his name? How old is he?” Alec breathed out, letting out a disappointed whine when the doctor took his phone back.

 

“He prefers to call himself Q and as such, I shall present him to you under that name. As for his age, though he might not look it, he is 33 years old, 34 in a couple of weeks.” He grinned when the men did a double take, holding the phone away from them. “I must warn you that he can be very _eccentric_ and he goes out of his way to work alone. He’s been known to chastise the people who hired him if they bothered him while working or if they did anything he did not agree with.”

 

“We’re not going to kill him like we did to Boris,” James assured him. He got a good vibe from the picture. “But will he agree to work with us?”

 

The doctor’s face darkened for a moment and at this point, they felt like they would explode because of how curious they were. “You are not MI6 so that’s already a plus. And if you are as desperate as you claim to be, you will pay him as much as he wants. But I beg you to treat him kind and show patience.”

 

“We’ll handle him as if he were a hurt deer and we the kind people who found him in the middle of the road,” Alec promised, huge smile on his face which James mirrored.

 

The doctor arched on of his eyebrows, obviously doubtful. “Try not to end up having to kidnap him, okay? And if you come back with wounds from him, I will treat them without using any form of anaesthesia.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are food for the soul <3


	7. Quartermaster Wanted 2

In a perfect world, children were the product of a loving relationship. In the real world, most of the times, they were unplanned or nothing more than tools to force someone into an unwanted marriage. When spies were involved, children where the result of a honey pot mission in which neither of the parties thought about using a condom. Q was the result of such a mission.

 

His mother found out she was pregnant with him too late to abort him, so she had no choice but to keep him. But why not ditch him in an orphanage after he was born? Because she thought she could use her son against his father. Raise him to become the perfect spy and when he turned sixteen, send him to kill his father – even if the two agencies made up a few months after he was born and all agents were supposed to treat each other like allies – and secure himself a good position in MI6.

 

That’s what convinced her to be careful with him for the first three years of his life, feed him properly and actually hold him in her arms – though not for long periods of time because she feared teaching him love and compassion would make him weak. And then, when he turned three and didn’t recover fully from a sickness which rendered his eyes useless unless he had glasses on and prone to colds, she pretty much dumped him on the other MI6 employees.

 

Little Q didn’t understand what was happening and tired his best to get his mother to hold him in her arms again, from crying – but learned if he did it for too long, the woman would smack him to give him a real reason to cry – to drawing the two of them holding hands – she either ripped or burned his art – and even started doing his best building things for her – silly little things that were ingenious to a child, but useless for an adult.

 

He only realized that his mother hated him when he was seven years old. It was the nth time that she was late picking him up from school and, because it was London, it was raining heavily. He sat huddled under a tree and watched parent after parent coming to pick up their children, covering their faces in kisses and pulling them under their umbrellas to protect them from the cold rain, making sure there was no way for the cold to seep through their clothing.

 

Three hours later, Q was drowning in his own tears, body wrecked with silent sobs. He asked himself what he had done wrong that the woman hated him so. He had the best grades in his class and he had heard his teacher discuss with the head master about the possibility of letting him skip a few grades, so it couldn’t be that he was bad at school. Then it had to be his weak physique, since his mother had dragged him in the head master’s office one day when he came home with a slip that was asking for her request to have him sit out gym class.

 

Her sweet words and carefully planned eyelash batting got the head master to give up on that idea and Q always come home with bruises or a bleeding nose since he was not fast enough to dodge out of the ball’s way or coordinated enough to shimmer up the rope.

 

The rain suddenly stopped and he looked up, hoping to see his mother standing over him with her umbrella and a kind smile, but instead he found his Uncle Geoffrey looking down at him with pity and care.

 

“You look like a wet kitten,” the man said, smiling softly down at him. “Do you want waffles for dessert?”

 

Q was startled at first, but quickly recognized the man as his uncle Geoffrey. He like his uncle; he was always kind to him, always patted or ruffled his hair and brought him a ton of sweets and shared with him his tea - and how he loved his tea! He also let him play with all sort of materials that stuck together and patiently listened to him as he explained what it was supposed to do, praising him - something his mother never did.

 

“I want my mom to love me,” Q suddenly cried out and threw himself in the man’s arms, pushing his face against his stomach. "Why doesn’t she love me? What did I do? I do well in school and today I even managed to do half of the course in gym class today.”

 

The man heaved a sigh and picked the little boy up, slowly starting to walk back to his vintage car. It broke his head to see him like this and hurt his soul that Q had realized that he wasn’t loved. “It is not your fault and don’t you ever think that, no matter what she says or does when she is upset,” he said carefully, buckling his seat-belt.

 

“She’s always upset. She’s always angry,” Q continued to say between sobs. “And I don’t know why. I do my homework and all she does is hit me over the head with my notebook. I go to bed earlier like I heard the other parents tell their children to do and if I wake up before and breathe too loud, she hits me. What am I doing wrong?”

 

There was no right answer to that question, or at least none that Boothroyd could think of. He simply patted the child’s head and drove him to his house, where his wife was more than happy to see the little boy. She pushed him into the bathroom for a hot bath and wrapped him up in the fluffiest towel she could find.

 

“You can skip school tomorrow,” the woman told him as she helped him wiggle in a bright sweater she had knitted just for him.

 

For a second, he was worried that his mother might be upset just like all the other moms, but then he remembered his earlier realization and he started to shake again, trying really hard not to cry. The poor woman thought he was upset that he would miss school, so she gathered him up in her arms and assured him that they could read books and do math problems, Geoffrey chiming in and offering the use of his laboratory under his strict supervision.

 

“In fact, we can go there right now, if you want,” he offered, holding a napkin to little Q’s face so he could blow his nose.

 

That made Q perk up a little, although tears were still running down his face. “Can I use the things that actually do something when you place them together?”

 

It was impossible for anyone to say no to his eyes and he would soon learn to use that to his advantage. “I think it will be okay–”

 

“Geoffrey Boothroyd!” His wife interrupted him, lightly smacking his arm. “If I see a single hair out of place on this child’s head because you two started putting I don’t know what explosives in places that they have no place to be, I will never forgive you and I will ask my mother to move in with us!”

 

Q tugged on Boothroyd’s blazer. “Is your mother mean to you like mine?”

 

Both people wrapped themselves around him and covered his face in kisses, rubbing his head and his back, whispering reassuring words in his ears. They stuffed him full and let him have as many waffles as he wanted, the woman surprising him by bringing him a little teddy bear that Q instantly fell in love with just as Boothroyd was tucking him in.

 

“Won’t mother be even more upset with me if she doesn’t find me in front of my school?” He mumbled, yawning so hard that tears spilled out of his eyes. “Maybe I should go back there and wait for her. Maybe she’ll love me then…” He fell asleep as he said and years later, he’ll realize just how stupid that idea was.

 

He spent two weeks with Boothroyd and his wife, thinking their house to be heaven. His drawings always ended up on the fridge, he was always hugged, they always praised him and they had even gotten him out of gym class. When he had nightmares, they alongside his teddy bear were there to shoo them away and if he had a bruise, they always did their best to make it better. He even got to meet a lot of people that were interested in listening to what he had to say or ask, showing him how various things worked if he asked and tried to improve them the way he said it.

 

When his mother showed up at school to take him – on time, for once – he felt like he wanted to cry. They went back to the spacious apartment that was cleaner and tidier than a hospital and Q made the grave mistake of mentioning that he missed Boothroyd’s warm house. That earned a hard slap over the cheek and he was sent to his room without dinner.

 

The next time she disappeared, she had the decency to inform him that he would be living with Boothroyd and soon Q couldn’t wait for her to leave on her long work trips because it meant that he would get to spend quite a few days in heaven. He was normally very afraid of her – especially since she had started to go for her eyes, saying that if he was defective, he might as well be defective to the end so she could get something out of it – to let her know that if she was happy when she was away from him, than so was he.

 

Three years later after that first incident, watching the woman pack with a hateful glee at an abnormal hour became a normal thing for Q and he had to hold on to the chair to keep himself from offering to help her since it would only end with bruises and harsh words thrown at him.

 

“Try not to be a bother to _Uncle_ Geoffrey,” she hissed at him, grabbing a fistful of his messy hair and gave it a harsh tug. “Because if I get scolded by my boss because of you—”

 

“I know, I know; you’ll poke my eyes out, force me to eat them and then dump me in the deepest pit you find,” he made the grave mistake of interrupting her, holding his burning cheek not a second later. “Why don’t you just let him adopt me?” That earned him a fist in the head.

 

“How did such a dumb, weak thing came out of me?” She asked no one in particular, returning to her packing. “Sit _quietly_ on that chair, you horrible brat.”

 

Q couldn’t wait for Boothroyd to pick him up, especially since he had found something about his mother and her job which something he had always been curious about, but knew better than to ask her directly. The woman was usually very careful with what she talked when she knew he was around, but Q had learned to be very quiet and one night, a very interesting word left her mouth – spy.

 

He shyly asked Boothroyd if what he had heard was real and if he was a spy, swearing on his beloved teddy bear not to tell a soul and the man trusted him enough to tell him the truth. “But you mustn’t let your mother know you know this,” he added quickly. “And I am not exactly a spy, though I do work with her as do all the other people you’ve have met.”

 

“But how can you work with mother and not be a spy?” He continued to whisper, looking around like he was expecting an entire army to suddenly drop down from the ceiling and start shooting left and right.

 

Boothroyd chuckled and ruffled his hair. “Spies wouldn’t be able to do what they do if they didn’t have something called an Information technology branch. IT branch for short. I am the head of the department and my title is Quartermaster, which is why we are dubbed Q branch which is short for my unofficial name—”

 

“I’ve read a book with that word in it just the other day,” little Q interrupted him, frowning as he pushed his glasses back up his nose. “It was a book with dragons and the Quartermaster in there gave soldiers food and weapons. Do spies fight dragons?” His mouth fell open and his eyes widen, a surge of excitement traveling through his tiny body. “Are dragons _real_?”

 

The disappointed look he got from Boothroyd told him everything. “You could look at the bad guys as dragons, but they only fly because they have helicopters and airplanes, not because they have wings.” Trying and make Q feel better he pulled out his favourite cereal – the one his mother never bought him and he swore the woman avoided it like the plague _because_ he said he liked it – and poured him a bowl.

 

“So what does a real Quartermaster do? And I like Q. Can I use it?” Since his mother put hate behind everything she was forced to give him, then he guessed that she had done the same thing with his name. Plus, he really hated it since everyone at school mocked him for it – as well as the fact that he was younger and smarter than the rest of the kids in his class.

 

“If you really like it,” Q nodded his head fast, mouth full, “then Q it is.” He carefully wiped his mouth and poured him more milk. “And the book got what a Quartermaster does correctly, although I do not give your mother food directly, I do supply her with the money she uses to buy that while on a mission. Also, the weapons that I give her are made to look like everyday objects.”

 

“Like I did with that wallet?” Q asked and Boothroyd slightly narrowed his eyes, already seeing where this was going.

 

“Something like that, but I can’t—”

 

Q clung to his arm. “Can I _please_ see some of them?”

 

“I am not sure—”

 

“The ones that you aren’t using anymore, of course. And I promise not to touch them or tell anyone about that,” he pleaded and Boothroyd would never really learn how to turn him down if the thing he was asking for wasn’t really hazardous to his health.

 

“Just the blueprints.” He also gave Q a red pen because he felt like the little boy would somehow find ways to upgrade them and sure enough, when he and his wife checked on him close to midnight, he was surrounded by blueprints that were covered in red.

 

“He’s a little Quartermaster on his own, isn’t he?” Boothroyd muttered, pour. “It took our technicians years to do these upgrades and he did it in a few hours. I am sure that the first thing he’ll ask to do tomorrow morning is see if he can build at least one of these things.”

 

“MI6 will not hire a ten year old boy even if you vouch for him,” his wife pointed out, pulling the covers under the child’s neck. “Not that I’d let them do that.” She leaned close and placed a kiss on his forehead, Q smiling in his sleep. “And, for your own good, I hope you didn’t show him blueprints for weapons or anything dangerous like that.”

 

“I might have showed him that one gun whose parts can be disguised in a pen, a lighter, a cigarette case and cufflinks,” Boothroyd admitted, ending up getting his pulled into the bedroom by the ear as his wife scolded him. “Martha, I am sure he’s not going to ask to build that gun.”

 

Due to how difficult the gadget was and because Q had the unconscious need to prove his worth to everyone around him, that was the first thing he asked to build. But this time, Geoffrey had no problem turning him down and although the man braced himself for a screaming child, Q understood and silently started to work on a pair of cufflinks that acted as a radio.

 

When two months passed and his mother had yet to pick him up, Q thought that something bad had happened and it confused him. On one hand, he was filled with joy because that meant he got to live with people that actually loved him. On the other hand, the woman who had given birth to him and whose affection he still craved every now and then, might be dead and he might be a horrible person because he didn’t care as much as he thought he was supposed to care.

 

“Your mother no longer has the right to you,” a man told him out of the blue one day, Q almost chocking on the sandwich he was eating while waiting to be picked up. “Take it easy, kid; I know the Heimlich manoeuvre, but I am afraid I’d end up crushing your bones by accident if I give it to you. You’re a scrawny little boy, aren’t you?”

 

Q was hypnotized by the man’s eyes, so much like his own, but when he tried to pat his head, he snapped out and bolted right up a tree, tossing his sandwich at the man’s head - he missed by miles, but he had tried. “My uncle is the former boxing champion of the world and he’s coming to pick me up in five minutes, so I suggest you go away,” Q lied through his teeth, panting as he clung tightly to a branch.

 

The man laughed. “Your uncle is what I like to call a ‘boffin’. And he’s not really your uncle.” He leaned against the tree’s trunk and Q thought he saw something akin to regret flash on his face. “You did not that, right? That Boothroyd is not your uncle, I mean. You must have figured it out because I checked your school situation and you are really smart, so of course you know that he is much to kind to be related to your mother.” He sounded like he was pleading and when Q glanced at him again to see if he could also read it on his face, he was shocked to find that he was on the same branch as him.

 

“You move fast,” Q blurted out, trying to edge even further away from him, letting out a yelp when the man grabbed his leg.

 

“I think it’s best if you stayed where you are. Or even better, why don’t we both get back down on the ground before this branch breaks?” The man flashed him a smile that Q found forced and scary, so he did the first thing that came to mind.

 

He screamed and trashed, trying to hit the man in the face to get him to let go. In fact, he screamed so loud that the world turned dark around him and his hold on the branch went slack, falling. The man threw himself after him, managing to pull him on his chest and twist and turn in such a way that he actually landed on his feet without breaking or spraining anything.

 

“Wow, that was a close call,” the man muttered under his breath, checking to see if Q was alright. “Hey, kid? Kid, we’re safe now so you can open your eyes,” he tried, desperately glancing around for help. “Kid, you are giving your old man a heart attack over here, so please stop it? This is so not the way I imagined things would go.”

 

“This is exactly how I imagined them and that is why I told you to wait until dinner to show up,” Boothroyd said right from behind him, ripping Q away from him and holding him protectively against his chest. “Walk with me to the school’s infirmary and stay out of his sight until I call you.”

 

Q returned to the world of the living after about ten minutes and sighed in relief, thinking that everything had been nothing more than a simple nightmare. He started to tell Boothroyd about it, describing the man as eerie and like someone who was up to no good, the type of person he thought his mother would be forced to deal with in the field - he had whispered the last part so when he heard someone let out a loud laughter that resembled a bark more than anything, he grabbed the glass of water that was on the little table next to his bed and threw it in the direction the sound came from.

 

“I would have preferred if I got hit in the face with the harmless sandwich,” the stranger from earlier said and walked in Q’s field of vision. “But great aim, kid, and I also have to congratulate you on how well you read people at your age. So, how did you find out that your mother was a spy?”

 

Before Q could start screaming again and try to throw the table at him, Boothroyd took his little hands in one of his and turned him to look at him. “He’s your father, Q, so you can relax. He won’t harm you. On purpose,” he added after a moment, eyes narrowed. “He won custody over you; do you know what that word means?”

 

Q nodded weakly. “It means that I won’t go home with you today or ever again,” he said dejectedly, tears welling in his eyes.

 

“No, no,” the man - his father and Q thought his brain might crack at the use of that word - intervened quickly, holding his hands up in front of him. “He can still babysit you when I am away and you can visit him anytime you want. Actually, why don’t I just have dinner with you tonight and give you enough time to say your goodbyes?”

 

“Can you give me until I buy my own apartment?”

 

The man laughed again, covering his mouth when he saw that he had managed to startle his son once more. “You have a great sense of humour–”

 

“Q; I want everyone to call me that,” Q interrupted before the man could utter his given name. “And I want to be just like Uncle Geoffrey when I grow up which is good because I have no idea how I managed to climb that tree since the furthest I got up the rope in gym class was halfway so deal with that.” He finished his rant by sticking out his tongue and hiding behind Boothroyd, pushing his face against the back of his legs.

 

“Kid, you can do whatever you want as far as I am concerned,” his father said, crouching down next to him. “Except go live with Boothroyd,” he added just as Q was starting to peek out at him.

 

“Then it’s not really whatever I want, is it?” He grumbled, frowning.

 

The man rubbed the back of his head, shrugging. “What can I say? I actually want my kid to grow up with me. As for your Quartermaster plan, after taking a peek at your medical records and school records, I couldn’t agree more.” He held out his hand and smiled, though he made an effort to do so from his heart. “So, little Q, how about you give me a try?”

 

“I promise to fight him nail and tooth for you if he’s as mean as your mother,” Boothroyd said, smiling softly. “And this time, since he’s not my agent, there won’t be any Prime Minister to order me to bug out for fear of one of our top agents going rogue.”

 

Q thought for a moment and nodded, moving to shake hands with his father and ending up on the man’s shoulders. “We’ll have so much fun, you’ll see,” he said excitedly and jumped, Q clinging to his head for dear life. “I’m going to buy you everything you want and I’ll never raise a hand against you.”

 

Q found it hard to believe, but the man kept his promise. He wasn’t home much, but he never belittled his son and although he failed at conveying feelings in any way that didn’t involve buying things, he always made sure that Q never lacked anything. He bought his first computer and then, the following week a new one because Q had taken it apart, sort of understanding Q’s need to see how things worked.

 

He was also very protective of Q and, as the years went by, Q understood that was how some spies that also acted as mercenaries tended to be. The family and their lovers were _theirs_ and nothing was allowed to happen with them and if anyone even thought about causing harm to them and the agent in question caught wind of it, there was hell to pay –that part Q found out only when his mother showed up one day when he was fifteen at his new school, waving around some papers.

 

Q had managed to ask one of the teachers to call his father before his mother managed to grab a fistful of hair and drag him to the headmaster’s office, insulting him all the way. Her words still affected him and he felt like he was becoming smaller with each step he took, the cold bubbled that was forming around his heart popping the second he heard his father’s voice.

 

“You lost all rights to _my_ kid, so take your hand away before I break it,” he warned, but she refused to listen. She even slapped Q a couple of times just to piss her former lover off.

 

“I was the one who gave birth to him and despite how completely useless he is and how much he looks like you, especially his disgusting eyes that I just want to rip out,” Q startled to struggle, afraid that she’d go for his eyes again, “he is still _mine_.”

 

“Over my dead body,” his father growled and managed to snatch Q away from her, pushing him towards Boothroyd as a deadly fight broke out between himself and his former lover.

 

While Boothroyd was sneaking Q out of the building, they passed by two young men who winked at him and Q felt compelled to stop and turn his head after them. He had only recently discovered that he found men more attracting than women – his father had known before him and when Q finally decided to share that information with him, the man gave him a little bag that was filled with _special_ movies that Q threw at his head in embarrassment – but he never thought he’d actually meet someone that made him feel like _that_ the second he saw him. Even shocked when they were two.

 

“Who are they?” Q asked as Boothroyd continued to push him. “Should we really let them go in? I never saw that horrible woman in action, but father can turn a simple pencil into a deadly weapon, so I really don’t think they’ll be safe.”

 

“That happened once because a certain Q upgraded the pencil in question,” Boothroyd pointed out. “And don’t worry about them; they’re the new 006 and 007.”

 

“006 and 007, huh?” Q muttered. “What are their names? Can I meet them?”

 

“Oh no. No, no, no,” Boothroyd started to chant, putting more force in his pushing. “They are way older than you and they are reckless and lack any common sense and they sleep with everything that walks. They are not the right people to entrust your heart with, Q, and I honestly hope you will never have to interact with them ever again.”

 

Many years later, Q was building gadgets for the two and helping them out of trouble when Boothroyd was stomped when he wasn’t taking contracts from various agencies. He never worked directly with them and the two had no idea of the extra help they got, but Q liked to daydream about how they would worship him – he wasn’t their type and he knew the only relationship they cared about was theirs, but that didn’t stop him.

 

Q had been busy with a really delicate task when the two deflected, but when he heard, he got an actual depression. He refused to eat and drink anything and he felt sick when he looked at a computer because he was sure that he could have done something to save them if only he had kept an eye on them.

 

He turned down all calls from his potential clients, from his father and even from his uncle, pulling the covers over the head when the two of them finally broke into his house and tried to force him to shower and eat something.

 

“Why are you upset? Did you run out of money? Is your favourite computer unusable?” His father asked, ripping the covers away from him. “Kid, if you don’t talk to me, I won’t know what’s wrong.”

 

“Everything is wrong, because I didn’t want to multitask,” Q sobbed, trying to make himself smaller.

 

His father didn’t understand what he was going on about, but Boothroyd knew. “Are you talking about the former 006 and 007?” Hearing someone actually say that out loud made it impossible for Q to hold back his tears. “Q, they’re not dead, I promise.”

 

“You’re just saying that to get me to stop. They’re dead and I am useless, just like mother always said,” Q insisted, refusing to listen to him.

 

If he would had paid attention to the faces his father pulled as he finally started to make sense of everything, Q would have laughed. Or maybe not quite since he eventually settled on a face that screamed murder and Boothroyd guessed that the man was thinking of the two former MI6 agents. “Kid, that woman is the dumbest person alive who completes her mission by pure luck so don’t you ever believe a word she said or says.” He forced his son in a sitting position and wiped his face with his own sleeve.

 

“But I—”

 

“The former head-boffin over here is telling you the truth; they’re alive.” Since his father never lied to him, even at times when a normal parent would have used a white lie not to hurt their child, Q believed him and instantly stopped crying, only to be filled with dread at the next words that came out of his father’s mouth. “Not for long, of course. No one who makes my kid cry gets to see another day, especially if they slept with him.”

 

“Excuse me?” Q hiccupped, red face becoming even redder. “We haven’t even talked!” He turned to look at Boothroyd, the old man also looking quite murderous. “Honestly, they don’t even know I exist, I promise.”

 

The two older men calmed down after a while, although his father kept on stabbing the table, disappointed that he wasn’t allowed to go after them. Not that he’d be permitted to find them or terminate them by either Q or his own agency, his bosses loving the fact that MI6 was currently too busy trying to juggle tracking them down, saving face in front of their own superiors and dealing with whatever twisted mind that crossed their paths.

 

Q himself caused trouble for them, although the new Quartermaster – he scoffed whenever he came across the man’s name attached to that title since it was obvious from a mile away that he didn’t deserve it – was more than capable to screw things on his own. And then, the trouble started.

 

Desperate and pretty much backed in a corner, MI6 reached out to him via one of his customers – which he ended up triple charging because of that. The agent they had sent to meet with him was on her knees, begging for him to come to them, promising that he would be paid even better than the MI6 director.

 

When Q turned that offer down, she had tried to seduce him which ended up with him literally rolling on the ground, laughing so hard that tears came out of his eyes. “Don’t take it the wrong way, or do, I don’t care…” He stopped to take a deep breath of air, “But you are completely wrong, starting from your nail colour and ending with your gender.”

 

The next time, they sent a male agent which failed to get Q into bed – and getting a kick out of seeing the man’s crestfallen look as he left the club with someone else – than a man in drag, then a woman in drag, and then in one final attempt at getting him to come willingly to them, a man _and_ a woman in drag at the same time – the woman was in drag and it was clear to Q that this wasn’t something that she was used to.

 

And then they resorted to violence which forced Q into temporary hiding – that and he felt like he needed a small vacation, too exhausted by trying to do his job, to fend off MI6, and to help the two rogue agents turned agency heads overnight without them knowing at the same time.

 

How stupid could the MI6 head be? As if he’d joined them after all the pain they had caused him – both indirectly because they went out of their way to keep that horrible woman in their employment, pretty much sacrificing a small child for no reason and directly because of what they had tried to do to _his_ agents.

 

“So did the Devil call you personally to tell you that hell has frozen over since you are actually attending your own birthday party where you’ll _talk_ with your guests? Or did he send you a text message?” His father asked, jolting Q out of his memories.

 

“Wrote it in blood on my bathroom wall,” Q joked. “As for the rest… Well, it depends on who’s there.” Q grumbled, huffing as he tugged on his bowtie. He really hated wearing suits and he couldn’t tie a tie or a necktie to save his life – the intricate one around his neck had been done by his father – but at least this one was an interesting colour.

 

“Since you _personally_ checked the guest list to approve it, you already know that they’re your possible business partners and…” His father trailed off, laughing as he caught Q in a headlock. “You know that you have to stay in there at least an hour, especially since this was your idea in the first place.”

 

Q rolled his eyes, struggling for a full minute before giving up. Even if his father was now an old man, it was still impossible for Q to get the upper hand. “Despite your constant attacks on my head, I do not have any trouble with remembering things. Now can you stop that? You’ll break my favourite pair of glasses and it took me an hour to tame my hair.”

 

“Kid, that hair of yours will never be tame.”

 

“Then _must_ you make it worse, father?” Q grumbled, quickly scotching to the other side of the car, trying to rearrange his hair.

 

The party was as boring as Q thought it would be and everyone seemed to be completely oblivious to his hatred of boring talks since they kept on going on and on about whatever new thing they had and how they were all so sure he’s fight right in. Wouldn’t it be better for him if he tied himself to one of them? They promised to pay him as much as he wanted – slipping ‘within limits’ not a second later which turned their earlier words in nothing but lies – as well as everything from cars to private islands.

 

On one hand, Q understood their desperation. He too would have been on the edge if the only person who was willing to do what he did and do it right for the right sum suddenly dropped off the face of the earth at the same time whispers of a government agency wanted to hire him surfaced. Really, the only reason why he agreed to throw this party was because he was well aware of the fact that might lose all of his contracts and investors if he didn’t show up to let them see that he was still alive, free, unafraid, and definitely not talking or saying things he shouldn’t be to people who might imprison them.

 

But Christ, they were so annoying and clingy that he was seriously thinking about getting his laptop out of the car just so he could crash all of their systems and make them go away – if only that wouldn’t end with all of them playing tug of war with him to decide whose system would get fixed first

 

And then there was that one waiter who kept brushing up against him and winking at him whose file Q honestly couldn’t remember reviewing – then again, he had seen over three hundred of those things, so it was normal. The man was cute and Q would have felt pity for him because he was neither blond nor muscly like his type if he wasn’t one brush away from having him removed from the premises.

 

Luckily for the waiter, Q’s father finally managed to distract everyone long enough for him to sneak out of the party through the back door, but Q got a bad feeling the second he set foot out of the building. It might have had something to do with how quiet and still everything was, as if there creatures hiding behind the garbage cans and buildings. Or maybe it had something to do with the fact that Q hadn’t eaten anything since that morning and he had drunk at least a bottle of champagne.

 

He didn’t get to wonder for too long because the second he exited the back alley, a car came to a screeching halt right in front of him and someone threw a bag over his head right before pushing him in the car.

 

Q struggled and kicked left and right, of course, but he felt himself grow weaker the second someone injected him with something. But he refused to go down without a fight and he must have landed a good kick on the driver because he felt the car swirl out of control.

 

He was knocked against the front seats and his glasses broke, pieces of it embedding themselves in his nose and forehead, but miraculously missed his eyes. He heard cussing and fighting but by then, whatever they had injected him with made him unable to move.

 

So he waited like a rag doll, somewhere on the edge of consciousness, to see who would end up kidnapping him. He did find the Russian cussing quite amusing, especially when he managed to figure out what a couple of them really meant, but he’d have research what the others mean – and be really careful about it because his Uncle Geoffrey always got sad when he caught him use words that weren’t proper.

 

Someone pushed his fingers against his neck. “Still alive, but he’s bleeding,” the person said and carefully pulled off the bag to reveal 006 – or actually, the former 006. “Can you see me?” he asked softly and Q forced himself to nod, aware of the goofy smile that had spread on his lips but finding it impossible to care of feel embarrassed. “You’re that nerdy kid that the Major was pushing away from the office with the crazy agents,” he blurted out, 007’s head appearing behind him not a second later.

 

Q felt like he was floating when he heard 006 that and if 007 was anything to go by, then this was the best day in his life. A pity he could no longer find it in himself to stay awake so he could continue to enjoy it.

 

At least he finally founded one thing that was more annoying than desperate investors and crushing waiters and that was whatever he had been injected with.


	8. Quartermaster Wanted 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was supposed to have just 3 chapters, but it will end up with 4. Ups. 
> 
> Please forgive any and all mistakes and enjoy~

Q turned out to be a really difficult person to track down. They had everyone in their IT branch look for the man but they couldn’t find a single thread to lead to wherever he was hiding. Q left a lot of digital fingerprints when he hacked into something because he wanted people to know that he was there and that he was dangerous like that, so fucking with him wasn’t a good idea, but they always led to websites that had an animated gif doing something silly.

 

And while normally they would have applauded the man for that and praise them, since they were currently in a silent competition with MI6 to get to him, they promised themselves that they were going to give him a good shake and explain that in situations like this one, talking with his ‘Uncle Geoffrey’ so he could meet up with people was the only solution.

 

Thank God that he actually decided to throw a huge party on his birthday. They couldn’t add themselves on the guest list and all the staffing positions had been filled by the time they caught wind of this. Fortunately, MI6 hadn’t managed to slip under Q’s radar and they were in the same position as them – or maybe they should think unfortunately since they might resort to desperate measures.

 

“Great, you stuffed me in this monkey suit for no reason,” Alec muttered, nodding towards the back alley. “Think our little genius got bored at his own party.”

 

At that exact moment, they saw a car pull up which they recognized as the type MI6 used, their unsaid fear coming into fruition. “I don’t think he’ll be our little anything if we don’t move fast.” He glanced around and quickly came up with a plan, needing no words for Alec to understand it.

 

While he hot-wired a car which he rammed into the MI6 vehicle - he wanted to think that he had been gentle about it - Alec ripped the door off its hinges and dragged one of the confused agents out, kicking him in the face. The second agent jumped on his back, but Alec threw himself back up against the car until the man passed out and then focused on Q.

 

His heart as well as his breathing had stopped while he searched for his pulse, feeling his legs almost giving out when he found it.“Still alive,” he quickly told James, happy that they hadn’t killed him, “but he’s bleeding,” he added when he pulled out the bag off of his face, flinching internally. What if they blinded him?“Can you see me?” He asked, a tad surprised at how soft his voice had been.

 

It took the man a few seconds for the man to process the question and he nodded slowly, a very amusing smile appearing on his lips – the man was clearly under the influence of a powerful drug everyone that suffered these kinds of injuries would be rolling around on the ground in pain instead of smiling.

 

But that goofy smile reminded Alec of something and it finally dawned on him why Q seemed so familiar. “You’re that nerdy kid that the Major was pushing away from the office with the crazy agents,” he said slowly, his mind still reeling from the shock.

 

The second James got a good look at him, he also remembered who Q was. “Your mother almost killed us in her blind rage,” he muttered softly and moved to poke his nose, Q’s eyes rolling in the back of his head as he passed out. “He’s losing too much blood, Alec. Let’s get him medical attention before he dies in our arms.”

 

Q was lighter than he looked and the only reason Alec knew he was carrying someone was because the man’s blood was seeping into his shirt. He constantly checked for his pulse glancing at James to make him drive faster when it took him more than a second to find it.

 

“It’s a normal car, Alec. I can’t make it go faster than its maximum speed,” James said under his breath, almost ramming another car because of how slow it seemed to move to him. “Did you-”

 

“Everything is ready,” Alec said before James could finish his question. “Doc said not to remove any of the shards, even if they are big, because his bleeding will get worse.” The back of the car already looked like a Tarantino movie and Alec wondered how the kid still had blood to lose, but he wasn’t actually complaining. What bothered him was that the traffic was horrible for one in the morning and that Q was getting colder and his pulse had started to play hide-and-seek with him and he had hated that game since he was a child.

 

“Alec!” James shouted in his ear, holding the door open for him. “Either start moving or give him to me.”

 

They really thought that Q would end up being operated, but all the doctor did was carefully pluck every little shard out of his face with tweezers, gave him thirty stitches, two blood transfusions, hovered above him for a few minutes, and then make him as comfortable as he could in the cheap bed they had in their safe house, saying that all they could do after that was wait for him to wake up.

 

“That’s all?” Alec asked, eyes widening. “Doc, if I wring out my clothes, I can bathe in his blood. Are you sure that’s enough?”

 

“We have a lot of blood vessels on our faces. It looked worse than it was, honestly,” the man reassured him, patting his back. “I checked for a concussion and, as far as I could see, he was lucky not to get one.” He covered his mouth to keep him from talking, already knowing what he wanted to say. “Alec, at this point, unless you can take him to an actual hospital there really is nothing else we can do but wait quietly.” Alec still looked like he wanted to argue and what was worse, James was frowning. “Fine; tell me the name of a hospital where you know without the smallest doubt in your hearts and minds that he’ll be safe so I can call on ahead and let them know what I want for my patient.”

 

Both Alec and he wished that they could have given him one, but they knew MI6 was stalking every hospital and every pharmacy in town because of the accident. So they looked away from the man as he grumbled something about an apology - which would come to him in the form of more money once they all got home safe and sound because they didn’t know any other proper way to do it - and started to pace around the room, glancing at Q every now and then, hoping to see him standing up.

 

James hated this part the most because it reminded him of the time Alec was in a coma and Q looked like the type of person who needed a stitch when he got a paper cut. Did he eat anything at all? And how could Boothroyd let him walk around this thin without forcing him to carry a pizza and a rock on him at all times?

 

“007? 006?” Q croaked out from the bed after what seemed to be an eternity. “Am I your ticket back into the MI6”

 

“No; we actually saved you from them,” James said after a moment, shocked that Q would think that.“Wished we could have found a smoother way to get you out, though. “ He started to walk towards him, but the doctor got to Q’s bedside before him and started to shine a light in his eyes while bombarding him with questions about his ability to concentrate, if he remembered what happened before he passed out, if he remembered what happened in the last two minutes, if time seemed to move slow, and so on and so forth.

 

“Doc, slow down. All of your questions are making _me_ dizzy,” Alec intervened, rubbing his temples. “I really can’t imagine how much worse Q must be feeling because of your interrogation. You even have a flashlight shoved in his face, so you really can’t argue with my choice of words.”

 

“The world is refusing to slow down and I sometimes hear an echo when either one of you talks, but I assure you that it has more to do with the fact that I drank too much, ate nothing and was drugged.” No sooner had he finished talking that he suddenly sat up in bed and covered his mouth, the colour draining from his face.

 

James quickly gave him a bucket and sat on the bed next to him, rubbing his back as he started to vomit. “Should we risk taking him to the hospital?” He was genuinely worried, not because he might lose a Quartermaster, but because this person was important to Boothroyd and the man had tipped them off about Q thinking that they would be able to keep him safe.

 

The doctor waited for Q to be done and for Alec to wipe his mouth before checking him again. “No need for that. He’s just experiencing the after-effects of whatever he’s been injected with.” He turned his attention to Q and smiled kindly. “I am going to hook you up to a couple of IV bags that will help you recover your strength faster.”

 

Q tried to nod, but the motion ended up making him dizzy again and he was back to hugging the bucket. “You say MI6 is to blame for this?” He asked, followed by a sudden retch and another use of the bucket. “I want a laptop, if I am not your prisoner,” he gasped out without turning his head from the bucket.

 

James started to rub his back, glancing at Alec over Q’s shoulders. “You are not our prisoner, but you are also not in the right disposition to do anything but recover,” he said carefully, helping him lie back down as Alec too the bucket away from him.

 

“I’ll recover after I pay them back for this,” Q insisted and tried to roll away, his stomach making letting out a low grumbled. “But I guess there is nothing wrong with waiting until tomorrow, if everyone in this room thinks we are safe?” He looked at them in an almost pleading look and they all nodded. “Good, good. Guess I’ll pass out for a few minutes.”

 

He did just that and the two former agents panicked, but the doctor was quick to assure them that everything was in order and that Q just needed rest. He also planned on checking up on Q every two or so hours, but James and Alec ended up doing that every hour, constantly rearranging the covers around him, putting his arms back on the bed, but never really touching his head even though it was clear they were tempted to brush the hair out of his eyes or away from his forehead.

 

Q slept most of the following day and the doctor assured them that it was normal. He was still weak from the drug and from the accident and he needed all the rest he could get. “But try to get him to eat something solid when he wakes up,” he suggested and that is what they did. Or rather, what they tried to do.

 

He woke up confused, scared and grouchy at the same time. His face had swollen to the point that he couldn’t quite see, not helped by the fact that he no longer had his glasses. He flinched when Alec took his hand and tried to pull it free so he could smack the unknown person in front of him, but stopped when he felt his scar.

 

“006,” he whispered and smiled, relaxing. “So last night wasn’t just a drug induced hallucination. I’m glad, I’m glad.” He repeated that a few more times than raised his other hand and started to feel around for James, the man carefully grabbing it and guiding it to his face. “And 007 is here as well. Safe and sound, the both of you. Good, good.”

 

It was strange that he sounded more confused now than on the previous night and they glanced at the doctor, the man shaking his head in silent reassurance. The poor man was going to get sick of doing that, James mused, but Q was Boothroyd’s precious nephew which they were supposed to keep safe – Q also had an air of frailty to him that was already affecting them.

 

“Those numbers aren’t really ours anymore, so why don’t you call us Alec and James?” Alec offered, but Q had drifted back to sleep and hadn’t heard a single word. Well, they will introduce themselves again the next time he awoke.

 

Maybe even as the man was eating? James mused and set about preparing something for all of them to eat, the doctor right behind him to tell him what he could use and Alec busying himself with trying to see if they could find out what MI6 was doing.

 

The smell of fresh food roused Q a couple hours later and he blinding reached around him, feeling the bed and his face, flinching. The doctor made sure to be noisy as he made his way to him, sitting down on the chair that was by the bed and carefully explaining what had happened.

 

“I remember all of that,” Q whispered, a tad annoyed. “I was checking to see if I was still here or if I was moved.”

 

“MI6 will not have an easy time finding you or capturing us,” Alec spoke up and Q seemed to start beaming when he heard that – or maybe because he heard the man’s voice, James couldn’t be quite sure. “Are you hungry?”

 

Q’s stomach answered for him, although James also brought a clean bucket alongside the food just to be sure. He had ended up making nothing more than simple rice, broth, and toast for Q, feeling somewhat bad that the rest of them would eat actual food.

 

“I can do so much better than this,” James defended himself after Q finally shoved the spoon in his mouth after carefully blowing on its contents for a good minute. “I’ll cook for you again when your stomach is better. Though I will leave the dessert to Alec since he’s the king of that.” He winked at his partner and got a wolfish grin in return.

 

“Alec?” Q said carefully, flinching in pain when he tried to frown.

 

“I am 006,” Alec answered, taking the spoon from Q’s hand and starting to feed him. “If you want, call us by our names. I am Alec and 007 is James.” He waited patiently for Q to get bored of muttering their names before he rested the tip of the spoon against his lips, silently asking to be let in.

 

But Q turned his head away and raised his hand, lowering only when he heard the spoon be put back in the bowl. “They fit you perfectly; your mothers really loved you,” he said mysteriously, turning on his side before either one of them could say anything. “James and Alec. 006 and 007. Huh, uncle’s really going to hate this,” he mumbled to himself as he drifted off to sleep, waking up only two more times that day so he could use the bathroom.

 

On the literal dawn of the third day, the morphine’s effect had gone away and Q woke up screaming in pain, scaring everyone. He tried to touch his face, but Alec moved fast and grabbed his arms, the doctor quickly giving him a shot of morphine which calmed Q down almost instantly.

 

“Someone will need to get normal painkillers because I don’t want him to get addicted to this stuff.” He wrote down on a piece of paper the best they could buy without needing a prescription and gave it to James. “Try to get as many bottles as you can without drawing attention to yourself, just in case MI6 makes it impossible for us to move,” he said, ignoring the offended look he was getting.

 

The city seemed normal, but a lot of things stood out to James’ trained eyes. There were more police out in the streets, obvious by the way they kept glancing between their phones and certain people that they were searching for someone. They seemed to be interested in people that had glasses and brown hair – Q’s description – tall men with short blond hair – him – and pretty much every male that had the right side of their face scarred or covered with anything, no matter their hair colour – Alec.

 

He almost snorted when the cops walked past him without even giving him a second look, but he knew better than to do that. He still checked to see if he was being followed before entering a hypermarket, hiding the bottle of painkillers along an array of groceries. He paid in cash, actually took the receipt and easily blended in with the crowd, getting back to the safe house without a single problem.

 

Q started his fourth day with a whimper, the man biting his thumb and burrowing under the blankets, trying to be as quiet as possible. It was sweet of him, but completely useless as the two men woke up the second he had started to stir.

 

They made sure to make a bit of noise as they approached his bed, Alec struggling so hard to open the pain killer bottle that he started cussing in Russian without realizing, ending up trying to use his teeth.

 

“Let me open it,” Q offered, taking the bottle from Alec’s mouth. “There a simple trick to it, you just have to push and twist at the same time. Funny how we, the adults do not have the patience for this, but the children against which this bottle is proofed, do.” Alec looked at him like he was a God and James rolled his eyes, knowing that the man would turn Q into his private bottle opener. “May I please have a napkin? And a laptop to go with it?”

 

James wiped Q’s hand for him and helped him sit up right, guiding his hand with the glass to his mouth. “A laptop and a napkin do not go well hand in hand, unless you plan on doing something that also requires a napkin.” He paused for effect, the unamused glare he got back doing _things_ to him. “Plus, I don’t think you can use a laptop just yet,Q,” he said carefully, nothing the small pout that Q adopted.

 

“I may look like a turnip—”

 

“I wouldn’t call you a turnip,” Alec interrupted him, tapping his chin. “Your face is not that swollen; it actually went down from yesterday.” His fingers ghosted over Q’s face and the man shivered, disappearing under the covers like a frightened rabbit.

 

“If I don’t let my father know that I am safe, I am afraid he might do something really stupid and pull Uncle Geoffrey after him. I don’t have to see to send him a message since I know most of the programs like the back of my hand.” He sounded smug, but he had all the right to be like that, seeing as neither them or MI6 had been able to find him or infiltrate in his birthday party.

 

James dug through his suitcase and pulled out a battered laptop that most definitely hadn’t been like that when he had packed. He turned to glare at Alec, finding the man’s head had disappeared under Q’s covers and if he strained his hearing just a tad, he could hear him ask the young man to stay there for a moment because he was suddenly very cold.

 

There were some moments when it was hard to believe that Alec was deadly. He acted childishly or like a giant cat who needed attention, made all sorts of lame jokes and made it seem like things went over the his head. But that was his trick, you see. He pretended to be completely harmless to lower everyone’s defences and when the time was right, he struck if needed.

 

“No, no, honestly; my face is really cold,” James heard Alec insist. “Put your hands up against it and see for yourself.”

 

Q refused to fall for such a cheap trick and moved even further away from him, James afraid the man my scoot right out of the bed. “006, I do not know what you are playing at, but I assure you that despite the rumours that might be going around the net, I am not planning on working with MI6.”

 

James felt his eye twitch. “He thinks I won’t smack him upside the head for destroying my laptop if he hides in there with you.” He grabbed the back of Alec’s shirt and pulled him out, Q turning to his back at them and curled in a tight ball. “And we know you don’t want to work with MI6. Booth—your uncle suggested you might be interested to work with us, but you have our protection even if you—”

 

“I’ll do it!” Q said suddenly, jumping out from under the covers and twisting around to grab both James and Alec’s hands and shake them. “But I still need to talk with my father so one of you two will have to do the typing for me since I assume the display is completely shattered and I am afraid I might get a headache if I force my eyes.”

 

That was easy; easier than he had ever expected it to be. “We haven’t even talked about your fee,” James pointed out, frowning when Q waved dismissively.

 

“Since I am assuming this is a long term contract, I will take an extra 1,000 pounds to what my Uncle got as the Quartermaster. Do you need me to build you things?” They nodded and Q hummed, nibbling on his lower lip for a moment. “I will keep the prototypes to everything that I build and the right to patent them if I feel they might be used by civilians. Do you agree to my terms?”

 

Alec glanced at James, eyes narrowed. It was obvious that the man was selling himself short for some strange reason. “We’ll throw in an extra 2,500 if you can build me an exploding pen.”

 

Q started to laugh, regretting it a second later as his whole face started to sting. “Child’s play,” he wheezed, reaching for the pill bottle only to have it taken away from him by Alec.

 

“Don’t pop them like they’re candy, Q,” he berated the young man and got a tongue stuck out at him in return.

 

“See if I open the bottle for you when you are in pain,” he grumbled, shifting his attention to James. “Okay, now you will have to type what I tell you without making a single mistake or else you will activate my very sensitive security protocol and if I am not well enough to do this simple thing, than you can be sure as hell that I am not equipped to deal with that complicated program.”

 

If they might have had doubts about Q being a genius, then they were quickly put to rest when the task he had described as ‘simple’ ended up taking James two hours to complete and it involved Q dictating each character slowly and carefully, their name rolling off of his tongue in a very posh accent that made it even harder for James to focus on what he was doing. And after each line, before James hit enter, Q had him read it back to him just to be sure that everything was okay.

 

Well, at least they found out that Q could be very patient and that his father was bloodthirsty when it came to his son, the man promising to hang them by their balls if any ill befell on his precious Q while in their care - they were inclined to believe him even though he was a cane away from being that disgruntled old man that yelled at kids to get off his lawn in old American TV cartoons and shows.

 

“If you are done being completely out of character,” Q hummed, drumming his fingers in his lap, “I will now proceed to reveal what I need you to do in order to help us make a clean getaway. First off: we’re not going with the action packed plan you are thinking of, which means no blowing up of anything, even if it is abandoned and the era is clear of all civilians.”

 

His father clicked his tongue – it was a video call of all things, Q explaining that the signal was currently being reflected off of every radio tower on the continent and bounced off of at least thirty satellites that rotated around the Earth, making it impossible to track it down unless something technical that went over James’ head. “ _Kid, you always ruin the fun, I swear._ ”

 

Q huffed, almost sketching a small smile. “I know you wanted to be a mercenary more than a spy, father, but I promise to let you blow up anything and everything you want the next time I need your help.”

 

“ _You rarely do, kid_.” The pride was obvious in the man’s voice. “ _Fine, we’ll go for the Boothroyd approach which means that I’ll act like nothing happened, but be careful not to overdo it with my fits to M and British ambassador._ ” Q hummed in agreement. “ _One of your boys,_ ” James noted the reddening of the face at that and stored it in his mind for a later pounder, “ _sneaks in your hotel room and brings you your laptops and your other pairs of glasses after which I am supposed to do a grand nothing._ ”

 

“Just one laptop and just a pair of glasses. It is more than I need to get us out of here.” He turned his attention to the two men in front of him and the way he looked at them had them almost saluting. “No clothes, no phones, nothing but the laptop with the biohazard, dinosaur and kitten stickers on it and any pair of glasses you find.”

 

“I’m sorry, did you say _kitten_ sticker?” Alec asked, starting to grin. “I am going to call you kitten from now on.”

 

“ _You won’t call my son anything like that!”_ Q’s father shouted. “ _Q, listen to me and go for a_ _ride with the wait—”_

Q slammed James’ laptop shut, ending the call and carried on explaining. “We will lie low for a bit and I will secure us a flight to wherever you want.” He almost pinched the bridge of his nose, but James quickly grabbed his hand to stop him. “Ah, thank you. I am very dizzy all of a sudden I forgot about my face despite the fact that it still stings.”

 

Both of them helped him lie back down – their hands lingering on his chest and shoulders long enough for both of them to become addicted to his body heat and the rhythm of his heartbeat – and Q was out like a light the second his head touched the pillow. Apparently two pills were too much for him, but at least he looked at peace and his face wasn’t contorted in pain.

 

Day five was much better. Q woke up with only a slight stinging around his stitches and almost no swelling, the doctor looking quite pleased with the way the healing process was going. He also managed to eat an entire bowl of soup and almost a quarter of the cake that Alec had brought him.

 

“Are you sure you don’t want another bite?” Alec asked, waving a fork in front of Q. “Open wide and—” Q pushed the plate in his face and James bursted into laughter without wanting.

 

“If you treat me like a child, expect me to act like the King of Brats,” Q muttered, raising his eyebrow – and flinching just a bit – when James started to lick Alec’s face clean. “An interesting way of not wasting food, I’ll give you that.”

 

Alec chuckled, turning around to kiss James and lick his lips. “I’ll take it as a challenge, kitten. Now tell us, what do you expect as our Quartermaster?”

 

“I have to inspect the team you have and test them. If they do not meet my standards, they get replaced by someone who I find more suitable.” That was reasonable. “I also need two budgets: one for the equipment you expect me to make – and if it’s small, don’t expect me to work miracles nor don’t you dare yell at me because I _will_ walk right out – and one for the computers I use.”

 

“That’s reasonable,” James said, nodding slowly. “Anything else?”

 

Q frowned, biting his thumb. “Good tea, no lab coat for me no matter what, dependable internet connections, no one to breathe down my neck when I am working, a comfortable sofa in my office, and for _everyone_ to bring back what I give them in an at least decent condition, when possible.” That last one was obviously there just for them.

 

Understandable, especially since the doctor did say they had played with Q’s creations in the past, but still a little unreasonable. “We’re not going to endanger ourselves to bring back toys we paid for.”

 

“I said ‘when possible’, double—James,” he quickly corrected himself. “That means I expect you to do your best not to throw yourself in the path of danger just for the fun of it, especially when you are told to make a right and wait for the other cars to pass.”

 

It was very specific, but both James and Alec had disregarded so many instructions while being chased that it wasn’t exactly ringing a bell. And Q caught on to that because he looked beyond insulted at them, hands on his hips.

 

“It was a silver Aston Martin, equipped with rockets, a sub-machine gun, EMP, an ejector seat, zero to two hundred in a blink of an eye, and an unfinished flying mode,” Q said in a single breath, a little twinkle in his eyes. “Uncle even sneaked me in his branch two nights in a row so I could personally work on it.”

 

Oh, he remembered that car. A masterpiece indeed and he had really felt bad about having to send it to the bottom of whatever river that was. And now that he was looking its creator in the face, he felt even worse, especially since that car had bit the dust about seven years ago.

 

“You’ll have a budget just for the car of your dreams,” James promised and Q’s smile was huge and infectious. James almost ruffled his hair.

 

The sixth day started with Q hugging his laptop and with James and Alec sporting a black eye each, courtesy of Q’s father - the man claimed that they had caught him off-guard and he thought they were MI6 agents, but since they managed to see where Q got his eyes from right before seeing green stars, it was clear that he was lying.

 

“Should we start considering your father a bigger threat than MI6, kitten?” Alec asked as he put the stake James was planning on cooking later that night over his eye.

 

Since on the sixth day, Q could actually put his glasses on, he ignored the world around him and typed like there was no tomorrow. When he stopped to crack his knuckles, James picked the laptop up and Alec put a plate of food in front of him, shoving the fork in his mouth when Q started to protest. He did not end up with the food in his face, but Q pinched his lower back hard enough to draw blood.

 

“You’ll get the laptop back as soon as you eat something,” James said calmly, holding the laptop higher above Q’s head when the man tried to reach for it.

 

Q glared and, for a moment, James thought he was going to tackle him. But instead, Q crossed his hands over his chest and said in a very serious voice tone: “If you don’t give me that laptop back, the MI6 will be here in less than ten minutes.”

 

They glared at each other for a moment, James deciding not to risk it and give Q his laptop back. “But you’ll let Alec fork-feed you.”

 

“Think the term is still ‘spoon-feeding’ even if a fork is involved,”Q uttered, opening his mouth for Alec to feed him. “Now let me work before MI6 finds us.” The fact that he almost chocked on his food not two minutes later made James think that he had lied about the danger just to get his laptop back.

 

When he sensed Alec’s head on his shoulder after he was done to the food, he started to explain what he was doing – talking with a contact of his that was pretty much throwing themselves on the ground for Q to walk on, if James was asked – and then spent the next hour looking at whatever silly thing either one of them wanted to show him, wiping his screen whenever they touched it.

 

Eventually, he started slapping their hands away – they didn’t feel a thing – which only made them want to tease him even more and finally having enough of everything, the doctor suggested they watch a movie.

 

Alec’s suggestion was shot down instantly and he was banned from touching the keypad. “I can make it shock you,” Q warned and typed something, Alec finding out the hard way that he wasn’t lying.

 

“Okay, fine. We’ll not watch ‘Star Whores’, but you two are passing on watching a great porno movie!”

 

“I’ll do my best to not lose sleep over it,” Q droned, downloading Star Wars. “And please don’t imitate Chewbacca.”

 

“I wasn’t going—”

 

“You always do,” James interrupted, smirking, “and fail at it.”

 

“Nonsense; my Chewbacca is on point and you are just jealous because when you try it, you sound like a dying whale.” He parted his lips, but Q quickly grabbed a pillow and put it over his face. “Everybody’s a critic,” they guessed more than heard Alec comment, his voice too muffled for his words to actually make sense

 

The young genius was asleep even before the opening text scroll was finished and after making sure that he was properly covered, they dressed in all black and sneaked out of the safe house, leaving the doctor in charge.

 

Q spent the eight day hiding in the bathroom of the private plane he had managed to get to take them wherever they needed to be, their host - a lovely blonde woman that had eyes only for Q, completely ignoring them until they were presented as his new employers - did her best to try to coax him out of there and get him to seat next to her.

 

When the plane finally landed and the doors opened, Q was the first one out of it. His legs were shaking and he was as pale as snow and only then did it dawn on them that he was afraid of flying. They linked their arms with his just as his feet were about to give out and dragged him to the car that was waiting for them, both men wrapping themselves around him to help him stop shivering.

 

“Please never make me fly again if it isn’t absolutely necessary.”


	9. Quartermaster Wanted 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, funny story... I accidentally posted the second half of this chapter earlier because I was rushing to get to work and I remembered while I was zig-zagging through the crowd, trying to get to the subway. A friendly advice: Never ever ever try to delete something while going down some stairs :|
> 
> This last chapter was also a huge headache for me, what with losing about 3,000 words due to a blue-screen of doom/death/dear-sweet-Jesus-why-didn't-it-save at work (the joy) and with me deciding suddenly that a 2,000+ words scene did not fit it so it ended up getting rewritten. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope this story was everything you wanted it to be, Silverwolf666, and I also hope that the rest of you also enjoyed it :)

Q thought he was in heaven. He could build things to his heart desire, the people that were under him were ready to do anything the second he snapped his fingers, the agents were quick to learn that his word was law in his branch and on the field, and the secret lights of his eyes were in constant contact with him. Better still, they were _nice_ to him and they had even bought him a special mug which he loved very much and was ready to kill if anyone dared to drink from it.

 

In the almost year they had worked together, they had failed to bring back in working condition – or even in a condition in which they could be recognized – every little device that Q had given them, but they always brought him something as an apology.

 

He always scoffed at the little gifts and shoved them under the desk, spending the next fifteen to forty-five minutes scolding them for acting more like mercenaries than spies. The time was extended to almost two hours if they had been close to losing their lives, pulling out the carefully mapped planes and the blueprints and almost losing his voice in the process.

 

In those instances, when they stare at him in almost shame from their hospital beds, they have nothing for him but promises to take better care next time and offers of long vacations on whatever island, country, continent, and hell, even planet.

 

Those, he told them to take them and shove it up their asses before walking out in a huff out of their room, but the ones he hides under his desk, he puts on the many shelves or walls of the spacious apartment they had bought for him and then proceeds to stare at them with love and dust them carefully every two days or so.

 

It didn’t matter if they were cheap Star Wars toys, or were expensive pieces of art – that were always presented to him as ‘some silly drawing’ he might like – or beautiful suits and clothes which Q thought he’d never get to wear because MI6 just didn’t know when to give up – and they always proved those thoughts wrong by taking him to shows or vernissages that they found mind-numbingly boring but which Q was fascinated by; he treated them as if they are parts of their souls.

 

His father and uncle were worried about his infatuation with them, but they knew they couldn’t do anything more than warn him something that they did every bloody time they met.

 

“I can control myself and my feelings,” he said every time, sounding less and less convinced of that. “I am their Quartermaster and friend and nothing more.” Despite his deepest wish, he wanted to add, but didn’t.

 

He was actively trying to get over them and the two men were always happy to join him and his apparent minions - because, to be honest, that was what they were; his minions - on all of their party nights and be his wingmen. It almost never worked because the people Q had his eyes on thought that he was taken or they were scared by the people he was keeping company with, but on the nights it did work out, the sex was always great.

 

It sadly never went beyond that, the one time he had tried to have a relationship with his bed warmer ending up with the guy bailing out on him in a nice little coffee shop when he went to the bathroom. That had been a tad depressing, but thank God Alec and James popped in not a minute after that and distracted him.

 

“It’s four in the morning, kitten,” Alec whispered right in his ear and startled him so hard that he actually jumped on the table and tried to hide behind his laptop. The man chuckled and held out his hand to help him down. “Honestly, I couldn’t have picked a better nickname for you if I tried.”

 

“I will put a bell around your neck, Alec.” He had tried to sound menacing, but the huge yawn he broke off into ruined that for him.

 

Alec rubbed his fingers against the only scar Q was left with after the accident, slowly shutting his laptop. “Before you do that, I will wrap a blanket around you while James makes sure your apartment is secure.” He put his hand on the base of Q’s neck which was cheating because Q always had a hard time being an unmovable mountain when they did it and they had to be aware of that.

 

“I can sleep on the sofa in...” He trailed off when Alec started to massage his neck, his brain shutting off.

 

Alec chuckled and started to guide him towards the car. “As yes, the sofa; if we would have known you planned on sleeping on it more than in your own bed, we would have bought you a wooden one.”

 

“Wood is good for your back,” Q mumbled, struggling to hold back from leaning against Alec when the man bent over to buckle his seatbelt. “But I might have gotten splinters.”

 

Alec sat back and ruffled Q’s hair, smiling softly at him. “Then it’s a good thing we didn’t, right?” Q hummed and Alec moved to his side, starting up the car. “Have you decided on what you’re going to wear to the party?” Alec asked just as Q was entering dreamland, squeezing his knee to keep him rooted in reality. “No falling asleep in here; I know you can run for up to five hours with only thirty minutes of sleep.”

 

Q let out a little whine and shoved his fingers in Alec’s side. “I’m not going to the party, so my pyjamas.”

 

Alec stopped the car suddenly, catching Q’s glasses and putting them back on his nose even before the man realized that they had flown off. “But kitten, it’s a party for your birthday; you _have_ attend,” he whined and Q was sure that if they were standing outside, he would have stomped his feet.

 

Q always found Alec - and James, of course - adorable, but in moments like this, he found him beyond that. He was so tempted to lean over and kiss his pouting lips until it went away, but he was sure that James would see to that when they met. “All I have to do is keep you two morons alive alongside the other agents, protect your agency from getting hacked and build things for you to destroy. There was nothing in my contract about me having to attend any sort of party.”

 

He pretended to be bothered when Alec wrapped his arms around him and started to rub his head against his shoulder. “But kitten! We got you that special cake you like, with the green tea cream and everything.”

 

“Save me a slice, or don’t. I don’t care, but I as sure as hell am not going to be attending any boring party, wearing a monkey suit and a tie that I struggled with for at least two hours to tie, only to be told that I didn’t do it properly,” Q said dryly, not making any move to push Alec away. “And if you’re not letting me sleep or driving me home, it would have been a lot more beneficial for all of us if you would have simply left me in my office, so I could work.”

 

Alec pulled away - and Q felt instantly cold and full of regret; this definitely wasn’t good for his mental health - starting the car just someone honked. “We’ll tie your tie for you and whatever suit you put on looks gorgeous the moment its fabric touches your skin.” He focused on Q just as he turned to hide his blush and stuck his tongue out at him. “Plus, if you don’t come, we won’t give you your gifts,” he tried and Q snorted.

 

“The only gift I want from the two of you is for you to come back without as much as a scratch,” Q mumbled, yawning so hard that his eyes teared up. “Which you both proved to be impossible when _you_ managed to get bitten by a dog _you_ were antagonizing like a horrible five year old-”

 

“That dog had it in for me the second he realized I wouldn’t let him eat my sandwich.”

 

Q rolled his eyes, covering Alec’s mouth. “And James shot himself in the foot with the gun that I specifically told him not to touch on the same bloody day, which also happened to be his day off, I might add.” He had pretty much moved in with them until their wounds healed because the doctor said he was too old to deal with immature children and although he had rolled his eyes and acted like it was a huge inconvenience for him, he had been ecstatic.

 

Alec tried to say something, but Q refused to take his hand away from his mouth until he started licking it. “Not our fault we can’t function properly without you. By the way, we still can’t find that t-shit you forgot at our place.”

 

“Nor I the shirts you two claimed to have misplaced while I was there.” He had stolen them and hid them in the back of his closet, sleeping in them when he was anxious about a mission they were on. “And I am still not coming to the party.”

 

“ _Kitten_ ,” Alec whined again and at this point, Q stuck his fingers in his ears to block him out, starting to sing off-key the first song that entered his mind. “Q, I promise to bring back in one piece everything you give me for the next ten years if you stop!” Q stuck his tongue out and continued to sing, doing his best to be even more horrible.

 

At the first red light they caught, Alec threw himself at him and pulled his fingers out of his ears, trapping them between them. “I am no fool to believe that lie, Alec, and you can’t do anything to get me to stop except promise to stop bugging me about the party.”

 

He was getting to a particularly horrible part of the tune that he was sure it was going to make the other’s ears bleed when Alec covered his mouth with his. His scent was intoxicating and his lips and tongue much softer than he had environed them to be. His moves were slow, careful and Q wondered of the wild fire he knew was there was really tamed or if he was holding back, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike and consume him fully.

 

And Q would gladly jump in those flames and enjoy every moment in them, rolling around and doing everything in his power to keep them burning until the entire world was nothing more than ash, sure that when the gasoline which was James… Oh shit, James.

 

“Fuck,” he breathed out as he ended the kiss, turning away from Alec and covering his mouth, feeling dizzy.

 

Alec chuckled right in his ear and nuzzled his neck, cupping his neck and caressing his chin with his thumbs. “When we get home, we’ll do anything you want. And James—”

 

“Oh God, _James_ ,” Q groaned and started regretting everything, feeling as if he had somehow betrayed the other man’s trust.

 

“Kitten, James will be just jealous that I got to kiss you first.” He pulled Q in for another kiss and the butterflies returned with a vengeance. He felt them fluttering around so much that he was afraid he might fly away if Alec wasn’t hugging him so tight or if his belt wasn’t buckled. “Your lips taste and feel like heaven,” Alec whispered in his ear, unbuckling his seat belt and pulling him in his lap, nibbling his neck. “I need to see if the rest is the same or better.”

 

“Alec, we’re in the middle of the street,” he gasped and moved, tilting his head back to give him more room. The man was better than he could have imagined, his fingers almost touching his ribs under his shirt - he still had it on, he realized, but Alec had sneaked his hands under them; funny how he could be subtle only when it came to certain things that Q had only dreamed about- sending goose bumps down his spine.

 

Alec stopped what he was doing to Q’s ear and bumped their noses together, chuckling at the disappointed sound Q made in the back of his throat. “They can drive around us, kitten.” He bit Q’s lower lip, pushing his tongue in his mouth when he gasped.

 

Yes, yes, they can all drive around them and go directly to hell as far as Q was currently concerned. He rocked his hips against Alec and the man moaned in his mouth and when he did it again, slower, with more pressure, Alec broke away in favour of biting down on Q’s shoulder, ending up with a mouth full of fuzz and lint from the cardigan. “Now I have to get you out of your clothes, kitten. They are a choking hazard and the only thing I want in my mouth is you and James.”

 

“Oh yes, please. You and James,” Q mewled, grinding against Alec more. To have both men running their hands down his body while they kissed and nipped and took him over and over again was what he wanted. That and more. “I’m greedy,” he said suddenly, covering Alec’s mouth with his hand. “I want you both for more than a single night. I’ve wanted you for so long that I need to rest of my life to be satisfied.”

 

Alec began kissing his palm, pushing Q against the dash and pulling his shirt up so he could start teasing his nipple. “We always knew that you were an insatiable tease and it fills me with great pleasure to hear that because we have had enough of those unworthy heathens touch without even properly worshiping the ground you walk on, like we do.”

 

Running his hands up Alec’s back, Q’s chuckle dissolved into a whimper when the man applied a little bit of pressure on his nibble. “I do so love it when you compare me to a God, Alec. Don’t stop that or what you’re… ah… doing …”

 

“If my God commands me, then so it shall be,’ he breathed out and Q shivered, trying to bring a hand to his mouth to hold back a moan and ending up turning on the windshield wipers. And then everything started to go wrong. Q tried to twist to stop them and ended up honking which startled Alec who bit down too hard on Q’s nipple which resulted in him trying to jump away and hitting his head on the roof of the car.

 

"Fuck,” Q hissed, Alec tugging him forward to rub the top of his head, trying to somehow reach his chest and kiss it better. “You need a bigger car, Alec. And Christ, do you have fangs instead of teeth?” He touched his nipple, flinching. “Did you bite it off? Alec, if you bit off my nipple–”

 

“No, no, I didn’t! Your nipple still there, I promise.” He gently pushed Q back and started to trail little kisses on his chest before starting to tease the hurting nipple with the tip of his tongue. “Can you feel it?”

 

“Ah, I’m not quite sure,” Q breathed out, placing his hands on Alec’s shoulder. “You might have to suck on it to convince me.”

 

“Oh, I plan on sucking a lot more than just you nipple, love.” He opened Q’s pants, rubbing his palm against his underwear. “And I see you are quite excited for that. Is it dripping already? Hmm, maybe I should-” Someone knocked on the window and Q cussed, quickly rolling back in his seat, Alec tossing his own jacket over him to cover him better before rolling down the window.

 

“Sir, you are blocking the street,” the policeman said and Alec pushed him back a bit so he could lean out the window and check to see if there any more cars besides theirs. “Sir, you are no to–”

 

“I don’t see anyone but us here,” Alec interrupted him. “Maybe you need glasses or in case you see from four cars on up, you should stop drinking.” Q tried to elbow him, but Alec threw his arm around his shoulders and trapped him against his chest. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to take my lover home so my other lover and I can take him.”

 

If he could face palm, Q would elbow Alec in the mouth. “You’re going to get us arrested,” Q hissed at him and Alec just squeezed him tighter, kissing the top of his head. “I’ll tie you to the chair and make you watch James have his way with me,” Q warned, accidentally making Alec even more aroused and ending up back in his lap, getting kissed deeply.

 

“Excuse me–” the cop tried to get their attention, only to be interrupted by Alec once again, Q humming in pleasure against his chest.

 

“You are excused provided you hop back in your little toy car and get lost.” That was the final straw that broke the camel’s back and not fifteen minutes later, they were both sitting in a jail cell, Alec trying to get Q to talk to him again and James on his way there to see if he could get them out with no real charges.

 

“Kitten–”

 

Q shook his head and slapped Alec’s hands away, scooting further away from him. “Don’t even talk to me right now. I am tired, hard, and cold. I am pretty sure two of those three are the worst things you could be while in jail.”

 

Alec quickly took off his jacket and held it out for Q to take, giving puppy eyes. “I really did not mean to land us in jail, love, honestly. I just got drunk on _you_ and lost sight on the law or whatever.” He slowly started to slide closer to Q, the sneaky bastard. “I promise to make it up to you, kitten. I’ll wait on you hand and foot; I will carry you in my arms everywhere you want to go. I’ll dress you and undress you and bathe you and spoon feed you…” He trailed off, nibbling his ear, rubbing his arms. “But why don’t I prove my worth by warming you up first?”

 

“That doesn’t really sound like a punishment for you, Alec. And I hope you don’t plan on helping him with the ‘hard’ part in here, where everybody can see you two,” James said in an amused voice, winking at Q. “So, a huge Russian bear joyfully proclaimed in the only phone call he was allowed that we can now kiss, touch, and please you whenever we feel like it and that we can stop hiding when we scare away all those losers who think they’ll get lucky a second time.”

 

“Not _all_ of them were losers,” Q muttered. “I had a conversation with one that didn’t make want to test your new weapons on him which also lasted until the sun rose and he even cooked breakfast for me.” The only thing wrong with him was that he was married and Q saw the ring mark on his finger when he was serving him his omelette.

 

James smirked, pushing himself against the bars. “And you had conversations with us for a lot of nights, even before we realized what a _treasure_ you really where.” A police officer opened the cell for him - Q wondered how much James had paid for this special treatment - and pulled him into a tight hug, nuzzling his neck. “More intoxicating than I could have imagined, love.”

 

“Wait, you were scaring them off?” James chuckled and Q pinched his side, the man gluing his lips to his ear and letting out a low moan. “At least you weren’t complete bastards and didn’t fully cockblock me.”

 

Alec hugged him from behind and kissed his scar. “We didn’t want to give you blue balls and we aren’t crazy enough to rob you of your chance to be happy.”

 

James hummed. “Think of it as us putting them through a little test: if they got over their fear of us, then they were capable of protecting you and fighting for your happiness. We wouldn’t like them at all, but we would have put up for them because they made you happy. As for that one bastard who actually ditched you, he was looking you looked like you really needed someone to be with you because our plan was to beat him within an inch of his life.”

 

“He was a good lay though,” Q muttered and heard both men growl lowly. “Oh, sorry. Am I making you jealous?” He asked innocently, sticking a finger in his mouth and tipping his head.

 

“Incredibly so, kitten,” Alec growled in his ear, biting it.

 

“Which is making you hard, interesting,” James added, running one hand down his stomach and over his groin.

 

Someone cleared their throat and they all turned to glare at the cop who was tapping his wristwatch. “I am going to need you three to vacate the premises before the morning shift comes in or else I will have to write all of you in.” He wiggled his fingers, smirking. “Should that happen, I will also have to keep the money you already gave me or else it would look extremely shady if I handed a prisoner—”

 

James stepped away from Q and held his hand up. “We’re leaving, don’t worry. And don’t worry about the security footage; my partner will deal with it.” He threw Q an apologetic work and Q smiled, shaking his head. He wasn’t the one who was supposed to apologize for the whole thing since he was busting them out. The bastard who was making it hard for him to be mad at him by nuzzling and kissing the back of his neck while acting like his living blanket was to blame.

 

“Provided I have my laptop, this night would be as if it didn’t happen.” He patted Alec’s face and walked away from him, also ending up with James’ jacket on him by the time they got to the car. “Both of you are sitting in front and you _will_ keep your hands where I can see them since I’d actually love to see my bed before the sun rises.”

 

It didn’t take him too long to rig the cameras to not record anything for real for that day and to delete everything they had, shutting his laptop just in time to see the sun start to rise. It looked better that morning and he knew it was because Alec was holding his hand, running his thumb over his knuckles while James turned around every now and then to wink at him.

 

He must have dozed off at one point because the next thing he heard was the elevator dinging when it reached his floor and realized that James was carrying him on his back, Alec keeping his hands on him to make sure that he didn’t fall off.

 

“Well, he did sleep with us in the same bed even before this,” James was whispering, his lungs vibrating softly under Q’s ear, “so I really don’t think that we crashing in his bed with him would be weird.”

 

“It is in fact more than welcomed,” Q spoke up and James stopped dead in his tracks. “The elevator woke me up, not you two talking,” he cleared up and started to run his hands on James’ chest. “But don’t put me down because this is actually very comfortable. To be honest, on the nights when no fish where biting,” or they were actually scared away by two unseen predators, “I pretended to be more drunk than I really was so one of you would carry me like this.”

 

James chuckled and Alec slipped him a roll of bills in his pocket. “You know my instincts are never wrong,” he told Alec, rolling his eyes when the man clicked his tongue. “Come on, my Russian bear; come here and let me kiss it better.”

 

The two really put on a show when they kissed, with growls, lip nips, and an obvious fight for dominance and although the world around Q was unfocused and moved sluggishly, he still got aroused watching them. But this time, he could openly lip and bite his lips and his hope to get kissed came into fruition, Alec plucking him from James’ back, his tongue invading Q’s mouth.

 

There was an added spicy scent and Q suspected that it came from James, confirming that not a minute later when, after getting only ten seconds of air, James was kissing him. He was less rough with him, careful in his dominance over his mouth, Q still feeling like he was kissing fire and tasting ice.

 

He wished for another kiss with Alec to start the second this one ended and then for a freaky one between all three of them – he actually knew how to make one possible because of the many hours he had spent trying to figure out since he was sixteen and he had even tested it on more than one occasion – hoping to pass out with their taste on their lips. It didn’t happen, of course, Alec pulling away and taking his glasses away just as the world was starting to spin.

 

Q let out a little whine and pushed his lips forward, uncaring of how childish he was. He had waited and dreamt about this for far too long and he was going to enjoy it until there was nothing left of either one of them. Thankfully, both men sort of caved in – and now it clicked why it only took him a pout or a disappointed whine to get them to do whatever he wanted them as long as it wasn’t bringing back his equipment or themselves without a scratch – and each gave him a little peck on the lips, James starting to take off his shirt.

 

“Don’t get any ideas, love. I’m just helping you get dressed in your pyjamas.” He threw Q’s shirt and cardigan at Alec’s head, stopping him from saying anything. “Q, do you really want his first time with us to be a quickie? Because there’s no way for you to stay awake through more since you are falling asleep even as I talk.” No he wasn’t! Or maybe he did because the next time he blinked, he was nestled between the two men, the sun’s rays still slipping in his room despite the pulled curtains.

 

He strained his eyes to see his two lovers as he caressed their faces, plating butterfly kisses on their foreheads. While it was true that he had fallen asleep between or even on them in the past, he had never woken up with them by his side.

 

“Everything okay, kitten?” Alec slurred, Q stopping him from opening his eyes by nuzzling his neck.

 

“More than okay, don’t worry.” He settled back down between them and almost laughed when he felt them change their positions to better cover him, revealing that they had only pretended to be a sleep. “I like waking up like this.”

 

“We’ll show you better ways soon,” James promised against his neck. “Provided you get enough rest on the previous night, of course.”

 

***

 

The party had slipped Q’s mind up until he walked out of the shower and found his two lovers dressed to the nines and holding up a suit that was clearly meant for him – and he would give them props and kisses for finding on that actually made Q want to try it on, but the fact of the matter remained that he hated parties.

 

“I am not going,” he said shortly, crossing his arms over his chest. “I see most of the guests on a daily basis anyway and I have no desire to mingle among our investors mostly because they are all still trying to get me to work for them.” In hindsight, getting all of his former employers to work with them, while quite financially successful, was not the best idea. “And no, you two are still not allowed to make an example out of any of them.”

 

“You ruin all the fun sometimes, kitten,” Alec grumbled.

 

“Yes, so father reminded me almost constantly.” It was very funny to see Alec’s face fall the second his brain registered the comparison. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to celebrate the fact that I made it through another revolution around the sun with a glass of red wine and a good book if my lovers need to rub elbows with mostly annoying people.”

 

He let the towel around his hips fall to the ground and started to slowly walk to one of his bookshelves, wiggling when he pushed himself up on the tips of his toes to reach for a book – he was either going to make his lovers stay or he was going to give them blue balls; either way, he was still the winner.

 

James walked up behind and kissed his spine, Alec easily grabbing the book he supposedly wanted from its spot and wigged it in front of him. “No more than an hour, kitten,” James whispered against his skin, slowly starting to trace his vertebras. “You know we hate to share you and we wouldn’t letting anyone get a good look at how you look in this suite we found for you.”

 

He believed them all right, but it didn’t make the party sound as attractive as they were clearly making it out to be. Not because Q thought it was going to be an actually lame party with everything going wrong, but because he really, really hated parties.

 

“Then I propose you don’t share me at all. In fact why don’t both skip the party and throw me a private one right here?” He focused more on Alec when he offered that because he knew the man was quick to give into the temptation that was packed in _his_ body. James could still say no to him, though it was obvious that he was trying his best and he was conjuring up all sort of horrible images in his mind to do that. “Or maybe let me offer you one?” He wrapped his arms around Alec’s neck and started nibbling his lips, side glancing at James; there was no way for him to resist both of them looking needy.

 

“Oh, I like that very much, kitten.” Alec tugged him closer and slowly dragged his hands down his back, cupping his buttocks. “But I will have to turn all those wonderful and hot ideas down.” He let a little whine out and rested his head against his shoulder. “No matter how hard it is for me to say that.”

 

Q clicked his tongue. “Well, guess I’m losing my touch,” he mumbled and found himself the middle of a sandwich, face covered in kisses, hands slipping up his chest and legs. “Or maybe not, but I am still not going to the party.”

 

James chuckled. “We’ll find you hot even when we’re blind and you are nothing more than a grouchy old man in a wheelchair with ten cats in your lap to keep you warm.” He stepped away and Alec gave Q his book, pushing him towards his favourite chair.

 

“Sadly, we have to attend the party, but we will be back in an hour and a half,” Alec promised which scared Q a little because he easily imagined them pushing their car to its limit and ignoring all the traffic laws.

 

He dug his nails in their arms, eyes narrowed. “If I end up visiting you two in the hospital because a truck hit you, I will come home, pack my bags and leave from your lives as both your lover and your Quartermaster.” And he was dead serious, something which the two men understood since they kissed his scar and assured them that they will drive carefully, Alec changing his initial statement to two hours.

 

They left after they made sure he had _everything_ he needed which meant that they left the apartment one hour later. “Bring me a huge slice of my cake,” Q murmured rolling and stretching in the bed, purring when a newly dressed James leaned over to kiss his lower back, Alec pecking his nose. “And drive carefully, you pests.”

 

“Your wish is our command, kitten, but we might come back home with black eyes and broken hands because of your father,” James said over his shoulder and Q face-palmed, realizing that had a great chance of happening despite the fact that the man never had anything against his the occasional lovers he had bumped with.

 

“I’ll kiss it better!” He shouted after them, picking up his favourite novel.

 

He got thirty-two pages in the story when he heard the front door opening, face breaking into a grin. “Now I am pretty sure that both of you…” He trailed off, heart stopping when he saw his mother look at him with her dead eyes, lips in a thin, straight line, face twisted in a grimace.

 

“Harlot,” she spat out, clutching the door handle tightly. “I wanted you to become the best agent that MI6 had and under the tutelage of your worthless seed donator, you became a harlot for the worst that came out of the agency.”

 

Her words hurt even though the shouldn’t have had and Q was quick to wrap the covers around him, lowering his head to keep his eyes safe by instinct. “You are not welcomed in my house—”

 

“Your house?” She asked incredulously, snorting. “I gave birth to you. I struggled to keep you alive for nine months,” five of those not knowing that she was pregnant, according to the stories Q heard, but he wasn’t dumb to point that out. “Everything you _think_ you own actually belongs to me. Even if you sold your body to get it.”

 

“I didn’t sell my body! They fell in love with me, can you understand that? All of this,” he motioned around himself, “I got because I used my _mind_ and their love came afterwards. You never gave me a—”

 

She slapped him. Hard. “I see you also forgot your manners,” she hissed and slapped him again because he dared to move his head when she wasn’t done talking. “It wasn’t enough that your mere existence was a stain on my _perfect_ record.” Her voice was so cold that it sent shivers down Q’s spine and he tried to scoot away from her, only to end up with her hand in his hair. “I am not done talking, boy.”

 

“Yes you are, so get out of my house already.” He tried to sound imposing, but his traitorous voice trembled.

 

She slapped him with her other hand, but Q’s face was so numb already that he couldn’t feel anything besides how hard she was tugging on his hair. “You horrendous little boy! Are you actually throwing your own mother from her own house? So you could do what? _Prepare_ yourself for your masters?”

 

“They are my lovers, not my masters. Then again you were never capable of love, so you have no idea what a lover is.” He dug his nails in her hand and managed to slip away from her, jumping up from the bed and dashing to the bathroom, grabbing a pair of pants, but not his phone.

 

He had absolutely no guns or gadgets in the bathroom – something which he would fix as soon as he was done dealing with this – but he did have a rather large window and he was lucky enough that the neighbour under him left his window open.

 

“I mustn’t look down, I mustn’t, I mustn’t,” he chanted under his breath as he hanged from his window, trying to feel the ledge with his tiptoe while his mother was throwing herself like a demon against the door – thank god she was too upset to remember that she could easily jimmy the lock.

 

He almost fell from the window, but pushed his body forward when he felt himself fall back and also narrowly avoided breaking his neighbour’s sink with his face. He wasted no time scrambling out of there, throwing an apology over his shoulder as he pulled the front door open and disappeared down the hallway. There was only one elevator and if he got to it and got it stuck between floors, he could rig the phone inside and call either James or Alec and be safe.

 

The two mountains that appeared from the staircase made sure that he didn’t and, after one bashed his head against the wall while the other knocked his neighbour out who was trying to call the police – so stupid that he didn’t think to ask the man for his phone – he was pushed into the elevator and struck by his mother. Again and again and again until their reached the underground parking and shoved into the trunk of a black Mercedes.

 

He was hoping that, by the time the car actually stopped – the ride felt like it lasted for almost two hours and he was so sure that if he got out of this in one piece, he would develop a fear of small, dark places – James and Alec had been made aware of his disappearance.

 

“Good; you didn’t piss your pants,” his mother said the second the trunk opened and the two men pulled him out. “I was forced to spend a fortune on diapers for you and I feared that nasty habit had followed you into your adult life.” She appeared to be calm, but Q could tell by her eyes that she was a sentence uttered by him away from snapping again.

 

“ETA one hundred and thirteen minutes,” one of the men said after checking his phone, the other keeping Q from stretching his neck to see at what the man was looking by tugging his phone.

 

His mother clicked her tongue, looking disgusted in his direction. “I never liked looking at him for more than five minutes. _Must_ I keep an eye on him for so long?”

 

“The only reason you were brought on, _madam_ ,” the man who was tugging on Q’s hair growled and that somehow translated into his mother punching him in the jaw.

 

She took a step back as the men let him fall on the floor, resting her phone on his head. “An inconvenience as usual, brat.” She spat on him and Q was close to tears, hating himself for still letting the woman hurt him so much.

 

He was tied to a chair and gagged, his glasses taken from him – the woman applauding the craftsmanship and the durability until she saw the proud twinkle in Q’s eyes and then stepped on them until she got so annoyed with them not breaking that she shot them – and his head turned into a target for pebbles.

 

“If you didn’t have that bastard’s eyes, I might have hated you less.” He frowned when he heard that, telling himself that she could go fuck herself. He loved his eyes as did James and Alec as well as his former lovers – some even struggled to create poems in their honour, but failed miserably. “If he had plucked out his eyes to give them to you, I would have tolerated them a bit more.” She didn’t even notice that they weren’t the same as his father’s; they were a darker shade of green, something that had to do with her DNA.

 

“And your hair looks like you have a bird’s nest on top of your head.” The curls, he got from her, so she really couldn’t blame his father. And everybody loved his hair, almost all of his former lovers playing with his hair. “I even shaved your head twice, but that horrible hair of yours grew back the same.” She let out a long, suffering sigh, rolling her eyes. “Why couldn’t I be gifted with a good child?”

 

Why couldn’t he have been gifted with a loving mother? Everyone wished that they could change something in the past instead of doing their best to accept that which has happened and move on, him included.

 

“Still, apparently you are good with a keyboard and a screwdriver so my boss’ boss has a very strong fixation with you.” She finally noticed his scar and dug one of long, sharp nails in it. “You’d think they’d take better care of their harlot.”

 

Having finally managed to untie his hands, he put all of his force behind his punch, sending the woman right into the wall. He quickly untied his feet, hit the man that entered the room hard enough to break, stole his guns, and shot the second man that came into the room in the shoulder and then in his knee.

 

He wanted to turn around and shoot his mother in both of them, but the second he heard her cuss at him, he was that scared little boy again and he bolted out the door. How sick was it that a child was not afraid of what was under his bed, but instead of the woman that paced the hallways, playing with her favourite weapon and saying that the only thing her child could be for was target practice? Probably as sick as him bemoaning the fact that he was held back from shooting her by that childhood trauma.

 

Q found out that he was taken to an old abandoned factory on the city’s outskirts – he was placing his money on a warehouse – which he could turn into a maze to keep his insane mother busy until his lovers _somehow_ found him. He would have gladly hidden somewhere among the shrubbery or dilapidated living quarters around the massive construction, but he had cut his bare feet and the trail of blood would have been a dead giveaway.

 

The woman got tired of cussing – or remembered that she was a spy – and started to call out to him in a sweet voice that only made him sick. “Please come out, love. I didn’t really mean to hit you; mummy is very sick and she has sought professional help.”

 

As he sneaked back inside the main building, Q thought that if she was referring to herself in the third person, she needed to continue her search. Also, just how dumb or desperate for her love did he think him to be? Yes, her insults hurt, but heck no he wouldn’t fall for the eldest trick in the book.

 

“Your father fed you lies about me,” she tried and Q almost snorted, covering his mouth and pinching his nose just in time. “I tried to take you back to show you that I have changed and I honestly did, as long as I take my medicine.” Only cyanide pills could help her change – from living to dead. “I am sorry I called you a harlot earlier, love. But this mission has been long and I have run out of pills and I hear those two men you foolishly follow and offer your best use it and it got stuck in my head.”

 

She walked inside a room right passed him and Q quickly jumped out and locked the door behind him, his moment of respite against it cut short the instant his mother started banging the door with her fist and legs, reverting to insulting him. Even more, it seemed that her backup had arrived and they were all making their way to his location, Q finding himself forced to continue going up.

 

He held his breath as he crossed narrow walkways that were almost completely devoured by rust, over glass domes whose cracks only continued their strange, almost beautiful patterns under his weight and through wagons filled with crates covered in dust and more rust. He shook again when he heard his mother’s voice, afraid that even the orders of the famed M herself wouldn’t keep her from truly hurting him and just continued moving on up until there was nothing more than a simple ladder that lead on top of the building and no place to hide.

 

Pushed forward by the angry voices behind him, Q climbed the ladder as if the hounds of hell themselves were nipping at his bleeding soles, scratching his back and shoulders as he pushed the heavy hatch open, the night’s cold wind lashing against his bare skin.

 

He used a metal rod he found lying around to block the hatch and walked to the edge of the building, wrapping his arms around himself. There wasn’t anything else he could do now except wait and hope that his lovers reached him in time, though he feared that the hatch would give way to the bullets and hits before that happened.

 

A helicopter in the distance gave him hope and he started to wave his arms around when he recognized it as one of his, waving his arms around like mad. The helicopter drew closer and its side-door open, revealing James and Alec, his father right behind them, clutching tightly an AK-47.

 

“ _That_ woman is here,” he shouted on top of his lungs knowing that his father would understand, his heart skipping a beat when his would-be kidnappers finally broke through and all started to fire at the helicopter, forcing it to move away.

 

He didn’t waste any time in returning fire, miraculously managing to shoot two men in the side of their heads and three more in their backs before his gun was shot out of his hand by his mother, the woman appearing to be foaming at the mouth as she made her way towards him. “I should have taken yours eyes out a long time ago,” she shouted and pointed her gun at his face, missing only because one of the men with her pulled her hand away.

 

This caused enough confusion for the helicopter to move close again, James and Alec jumping out from it and narrowly grabbing hold of the edge. His father started shooting at the men who were trying to kick his lovers off, about five of Q’s agents coming through the hatch to help think the MI6 numbers down while the one who had been struggling with her mother ditching her in favour of shooting at the helicopter.

 

Unfortunately, this meant that his mother was free to charge at him, digging her fingers in his face. “They’ll understand once I tell them that you were useless,” she hissed and started to push him back, ignoring his hits. “Be a good boy for once in your life and do as mother tells you and that is to fall and disappear off the face of this Earth and mommy promises that she will give those to stains on MI6’s perfect record and quick death.”

 

“Never,” he growled and forced her hands off of his face, hitting her in the stomach and chest repeatedly until she fell on her knees, rushing to move around her and accidentally pushing her over the edge.

 

She wasn’t graceful to fall to her death, the bloody viper. Instead, she clung to the ledge of the building and called out to Q in her sickening nice voice. “Help me up, son! If you do that, you’ll prove what a good child you really are and I will love you forever, I promise!”

 

Morbid curiosity alongside a small dose of masochism had Q peek over the edge, down at her. “I really am not as stupid as you think me, mother,” he mumbled, frowning. “Nor am I prone to losses of short-term memories despite the many times I was hit over the head.”

 

“I never _really_ thought you were stupid, son! I did what I did to toughen you up and prepare you for the real world.” She started to lose her grip, her eyes filling with desperation. “You wouldn’t let your own mother die now, would you?”

 

Q glanced behind him to make sure his lovers were doing okay before turning his attention back on his mother, holding his arm just out of her reach. “What do you think of my eyes, _mother_?” He asked and moved his hand back just a little when she tried to grab on to it with one hand.

 

“Your eyes,” her face twisted into a mad smile, pulling out a knife and using all of her strength to try to push herself up, “I hate them so much!” She fell and Q just watched, the feeling of relief washing over him the second he saw her body hit the ground.

 

He wouldn’t let his mother die, but the bloodied corpse on the ground hadn’t been anything else but a birthing canal. “My mother is Aunt Martha,” he whispered to no one. He should officially introduce his lovers to her when his face healed up. Oh and he should tell them what type of chocolates and flowers she liked, just to avoid them getting threatened with a rolling pin.

 

Something was draped over his shoulders and he flinched when he felt to hands on his back, relaxing when he realized that it was just Alec and James. “Q, are you okay?” James asked slowly, carefully pulling him in an upright position and turning his head to get him to look at him. “The distance was too big and you couldn’t—”

 

“Ding-dong, the witch is gone,” Q said suddenly, laughing so hard that his eyes were tearing up.

 

The two men sandwiched him between them, kissing the top of his head and rubbing his arms, Alec picking him up bridal style. “It’s going to be okay, kitten,” he whispered against his ear and proceeded to carry him through the building, James arranging the jacket around him every time it slipped down.

 

His father made sure that he didn’t see the woman’s body as he was brought on to the helicopter and nothing to stop the man kissing him, grabbing his hand and squeezing it reassuringly when he realized that they were flying.

 

“We’ll be back on the ground in ten minutes via normal landing, kid, I promise.” And because his father never lied to him, Q forced himself to relax and get comfortable once again against his lovers.

 

An army of doctors and nurses led by their kind doctor cleaned and bandaged his every wound and his arms were filled with needle marks from all the shots they gave him and all the blood they took to make sure that he wouldn’t get infected with anything, Alec and James needing little more than a look to understand that Q wanted them to ‘kiss it better’.

 

“The most important test is negative,” the doctor said and everyone let a sigh of relief. “There is also no need for an IV, but I will give you some sleeping pills to take in case you have a hard time falling asleep tonight.” He gave a little bag to James, explaining something that Q didn’t bother to listen to.

 

Instead, he turned to look at Alec, tilting his head to the right. “Did you save me a slice of cake?”

 

Alec blinked, mouth opening and closing a few times before his brain started to work. “I am pretty sure your cake was untouched, kitten.” He smiled softly at him and caressed the side of his face. “James had a bad feeling and as soon as we got to the party, we had one of your minions check _all_ of the security cameras you had in your building.”

 

“The normal ones didn’t show anything wrong, but your hidden ones showed us the truth,” James continued to explain, squeezing Q’s hand and looking quite proud of him.

 

Q felt his lips move into a smile, but it didn’t quite register to him, his mind filled with white noise and nothing else. “Can we go home now? I think the world is too bright and too loud and I want to sleep.”

 

He blinked and he found himself in the middle of his bed, Alec carefully putting a black and white kitten in his lap, the little creature sniffing him before it decided that he was just right and started to purr loudly.

 

“One of your gifts,” Alec explained when Q looked at him confused. “Since you have kitten stickers on your laptops, a horrible cardigan with one, and an entire folder with cat pictures, we thought you might like a living one.”

 

Q poked the little kitten’s head, smiling. “Boy or girl?”

 

James picked up the little thing and looked under its tail, getting hissed. “Boy, apparently.”

 

“Spots,” Q whispered and kissed the kitten’s head, laying on his back, putting the little animal on his chest before his lovers pulled the covers over him and wrapping themselves around him. “I like him; his purring makes me feel like I have something in my chest.” He slowly started to rub the kitten’s head, the word spinning out of focus.

 

He woke up with a start, his ears ringing and his face wet. His lovers were up, of course, rubbing his back softly and looking at him like they understood what he was going through, the little kitten staring up at him in confusion from his lap.

 

“I don’t remember my dream.”

 

“It’s better that you don’t,” James said slowly. “Don’t focus on it; just let it slip away from your mind.”

 

He stretched and the kitten mirrored him, walking over to James to put his little paws on his chest and dig his still harmless claws in his skin, suddenly wide awake and in the mood for games.

 

“You mustn’t do that, Spots,” Q chastised the little creature, carefully pulling him away from James. “They only like it when daddy claws at them.” He poked his nose, making a little noise when the kitten started licking his finger. “I think he likes me.”

 

“The little beast has great taste,” Alec said, returning the hiss he was given, stopping when Q cupped his face and kissed his forehead. “I think the dog’s name is quite fitting for him, kitten. How are you feeling?”

 

Q frowned and thought for a good minute, wanting to be sure. “I am torn between normal and better, actually.” He touched his chest, feeling his heart start to beat normally after the last traces of his nightmare were gone. “Shouldn’t I cry or feel guilty?”

 

James took his hand and kissed it, rubbing his knuckles. “You didn’t kill her and she wasn’t a good mother. I don’t see any reason why you should feel any of those things.”

 

Q hummed. “You do have a point. Still, I feel very tired—”

 

“MI6 is temporarily crippled and your father alongside your uncle and aunt are making things even worse for them because of last night which makes things even easier than when we planned this,” Alec interrupted him, rubbing his scar. “Your department is also more than capable now of functioning without its beloved Overload for a week.” He grinned, but Q felt uneasy.

 

“Are you firing me?” Q asked, eyebrow arched, heart starting to beat fast. He was pretty sure his recent nightmare had something to do with this.

 

“No, no,” James said quickly, giving him a little kiss before giving him some papers. “We wanted to give you these tickets last night at the party, alongside with the little demon who is currently using my right arm as his scratching post.”

 

Q frowned, clicking his tongue. “Spots, you naught little thing.” He picked him up by the back of his neck and lifted him up to his face, giving him his best hard stare. “You are not to sit on this bed with us until you learn how to behave.” He gave him to Alec. “Please _carefully_ put him out of our room.”

 

Alec did as he was told and the second the door closed, Spots started to mewl like hellhounds were trying to get him. “This seems to be more of a punishment for us than him, kitten.” He crawled back in the bed, resting his head on Q’s lap, poking his stomach. “Although I have to admit that I’d cry as loudly as him if you kicked me out of your bed.”

 

Q snorted, starting to scratch the man behind the ears. “So this is nothing more than a normal morning for us, hm? Well, a bit different because of Spots.”

 

James kissed his neck, squeezing his shoulder. “All that has to change is you feeling safer, kitten.” Well, that might be kind of hard because he always felt the safest when the two men were with him. “Now, what do you say about our little getaway plans? Good? Bad? You hope we get paper cuts from the tickets?”

 

“Flying all the way to the island?” Q asked uneasy, eyes narrowed.

 

Alec stuck his head under Q’s shirt, lazily drawing circles around his bellybutton with his tongue. “Sailing there on the private yacht which was a gift to you from the maharajah of I don’t know what country.”

 

“Well, we mustn’t be rude and not use the yacht, now must we? And it would be such a shame to let that dead woman ruin this gift.” He closed his eyes and lied back down, parting his lips for James to kiss him. “Now do be kind enough to show me what you have planned for the three of us in this little vacation.”

 

“Hmm, gladly,” they both whispered at the same time and Q moaned in pleasure.

 

But Spots made sure to interrupt them before they got too far, managing to open the door. He jumped up on the bed and ran to Q’s chest on which he curled on, pushing Alec’s head away with his little legs, hissing at James.

 

“James, this was the worst gift you ever got Q,” Alec grumbled. “There is no way he’s going to let us scare away his Spots.”

 

To prove the man’s point, Q wrapped his arms around the little purring kitten and rolled away from them, laughing when they both started to whine. “I’ll banish you both from my bed if you dare to do that.”


	10. Not what it seems

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sweet fellowshipofthegay asked for "mob boss/hacker Q and bodyguards/lovers Alec and James!"
> 
> Hope you enjoy :) It was a pleasure writing it

It was hard to believe that the thin, young man who was literally biting a PS4 controller while wearing nothing more than his favourite pair of boxer briefs with little golden robots that resembled a garbage can even more than R2-D2 did, was the head of a mob family. And yet, he was.

 

He had inherited the family, as it happens, but he was quick to prove that he was more than worthy of that. Cool, collected, and with a brilliant mind, he tripled their monthly profits and he had quadrupled the men he had inherited, all of which were extremely loyal to him. Some had said that the young man had even accidentally created a religion and that his men saw him as a god – which they did – but he considered that to be a gorse exaggeration of things.

 

Another thing that set him apart from the other uncrowned heads of the underground world besides his age and smartness was his readiness to work side by side with his men. Not with the ones who carried drugs or the ones who physically fought to remind other groups where their territory started, but with those who were deadly with a computer.

 

When he was sat down in front of one, his fingers flew from one key to another that you couldn’t see them. You’d just hear the clanking sound they made and saw symbols appearing on the screen, easily disarming every firewall and security program that was standing in his way with the ease of a bored state worker finishing another round of Solitaire.

 

The police thought they had some of his men on camera killing, roughing up, or threatening someone? Think again, mister police officer. All of your files have suddenly been corrupted and you have nothing. What was that, rival group? You want to cripple me from a technological point of view? How very amusing and here, for all of your trouble, have a Trojan that will shut you down for at least two weeks and which will also allow me to see what pies you have your fingers stuck in.

 

The young crime lord also liked to build and improve things. He always knew which men shot what gun and made sure that neither could be shot with their own weapons by enemies due to the biometric system he managed to incorporate into them without making them overly heavy or having to reduce the number of bullets they fired. He equipped his own personal cars with all sorts of devices to shot everything from oil to bullets, upgrading their engines to increase their speed and lower the time it took to get from 0 to 200, amused by the multiple job offers he got various car companies.

 

But car companies weren’t the only ones who foolishly tried to get him to work for them. Special kind of agencies from all over the world tried to get him to become something they called a ‘Quartermaster’. They offered to wipe his criminal records clean and to give him triple the fee someone with that position got, but he turned all of them down, feeling insulted more than anything by their offer.

 

That whole business got him stuck with the title, something he actually liked. When his secretary – a lovely and deadly woman named Eve who saw herself more like Q’s big sister, babying him when he got sick and outright spoon feeding him when he was too busy saving his own men to eat – got him a mug with the letter ‘Q’ inscribed on it, he bought her a private island.

 

However, some of the agencies he had turned down weren’t too happy with that so they sent out assassins after him, reasoning that if they couldn’t have him, then he couldn’t have his life. All of his men offered to be his bodyguards and living shield, but he turned them down. He wanted someone who had actual combat experience and who was trained to spot a sniper before a bullet pierced his skull.

 

No, simple mob soldiers simply wouldn’t do. But a formal Royal Navy Commander who was trained in various types of martial arts – Judo, Aikido, Brazilian Jujitsu, and so on – and a former SPETSNAZ captain were more than perfect. And thus James Bond and Alec Trevelyan, after an informal meeting in which they saved a young man from getting kidnapped – unknowingly passing Q’s test with flying colours, especially since they hadn’t killed his men, just injured them enough not to move –ended up being his bodyguards and glorified babysitters. And they loved every second of their new job.

 

Q was a jewel to them and they lived and breathed for him, ready to do anything and everything for him at the simply snap of fingers. They had gotten attached to him almost instantly, the way he fretted about everyone on his payroll putting to shame all of their previous employers, their own countries included – though, to be honest, the first time he showed care towards someone in the boardroom, they thought he was going to have the sick man shot, shocked when he really did send him home alongside an actual doctor.

 

They were given time off – which they insisted on spending with him and as long as Q wasn’t going through one of his temporary crushes on one of the many ungrateful and unworthy leech who tried their best to permanently attach themselves to him, he allowed them–their own room within Q’s penthouse, ungraded versions of their favourite cars, and more money they could count. On top of that, if they got so much as a scratch, Q would clean and dress it for them and heaven forbid they should get a serious wound because then Eve would behead them for making Q worry so much.

 

“This game is cheating,” Q declared, dropping the controller. “Alec, would you be ever so kind and bring me my blue laptop?”

 

He would bring him the world, if he asked for it – not that he needed anyone to bring it to him; if he wanted, he could take it for himself. “I’ll do that only if you eat the breakfast that James cooked for all of us.”

 

Q narrowed his eyes. “If it’s anything with asparagus again, I’m ordering Chinese and banning the both of you from making food for me ever again.”

 

“He made your favourite,” Alec called over his shoulder as he entered his bedroom, almost bumping into Q’s latest lover, an annoying man who spent half of the day manscaping and antagonizing them and the other half trying to make Q buy him expensive things.

 

“Have Jim or whatever his name is make me something to drink if he’s the one playing cook this morning,” the little rat said smugly, wearing Q’s silk bathrobe. “And by make me, I mean send him to Starbucks to get me a venti iced skinny hazelnut macchiato, sugar-free syrup, extra shot, light ice, no whip.”

 

Alec’s eye twitched, clenching his fists. Soon, very soon, he would be allowed to pick him up by the scruff of his neck and dump him out of Q’s life. “His name is James,” Alec growled, forcing himself to smile as he cracked his knuckles. “Let me repeat the order just to be sure I got everything down: one tall glass of boiled water and rat poison, right?” He barked out the most obvious fake laugh, slapping the man’s back hard enough to make him stumble. “Lighten up; I am only kidding.”

 

The man looked like Alec had offended his dead relatives which made Alec quite proud of himself. “Listen here, Alex—”

 

“His name is _Alec_ and none of them have to do anything for you,” Q interrupted, the dry, bored voice tone signalising the beginning of the end of this relationship. “If you want Starbucks, get dressed and go get it yourself. Here,” he walked over to the bedside table and pulled out his wallet, tossing a hundred quid in the man’s direction. “To spare myself of the conversation that was going to follow this one.”

 

Sensing the thin ice he was on, the man was smart enough not to pocket the bill and instead focus on pulling Q in his arms and trail little kissed down his neck, squeezing his hands. “Gangsta baby,” a horrible way to start since Q had told him repeatedly, even in the so called ‘honeymoon’ period not to call him that, “he said he wanted to poison me. And you don’t really expect me to remember the names of your _henchmen_.”

 

Q turned to look amusedly at Alec. “They are not my henchmen and Alec prefers knives and explosives, so you really don’t have to worry when it comes to him and poison. James, however…” he trailed off, picking up his blue laptop. “Stop insulting them and treating them like they are garbage and maybe they’ll start tolerating you.”

 

“ _They_ have to tolerate me? Isn’t it supposed to be the other way—?”

 

“It’s too early for me to deal with this,” Q interrupted him. “Can you ask me the inevitable question now and spare us three hours of huffing, sighing, head shaking, and eye rolling that would lead to you shouting and to Alec and James toying with their weapons behind you? I do have to toy with a game’s AI, you know.”

 

The man blinked slowly and Alec could swear that he smelt the leech’s brain burning from how hard he was thinking – in reality, James had abandoned the food for a moment, curious to see what was going on and if backup was needed. “I don’t understand what’s happening here…” he said slowly, actually glancing in Alec’s direction as if he was expecting help from him.

 

Q sighed, slumping. “You’ll eventually ask me to choose between them and you.”

 

“What? No, I would _never_ do that,” his possible – if there was a God – ex-lover said quickly, grabbing the laptop from Q’s hands, tossing it on the bed so he could hug him. “There is no reason for me to ask you that since I know that, in the end, you will pick me because gorillas can always—”

 

“Alec, I know you don’t start working today, but can you…” He trailed off and motioned in the other’s man general direction, looking annoyed. “And please get back my bathrobe; it’s from Eve’s new hotel.”

 

This was a decent way to start the day – he had another idea for the perfect way, but… “No problem at all, Q. In fact, it’s going to be quite a pleasure to rid you of this talking leech.” He put his hand on the man’s shoulder and squeezed hard, keeping him from talking. “You’re lucky he’s not the type who shoots his ex-lovers. Now go get dressed, don’t be stupid enough to exact revenge on Q by ruining this bathrobe and permit me to see you to the door.”

 

Q’s taste in lovers was simply horrible. They couldn’t understand how it was that such a smart man could fall for so many dumb people, and yet it was an almost monthly thing. They went out partying, they blinked, and Q was brushing against a beefy, blond man who was certainly using the lamest pickup lines in existence between slipping his tongue in his ear, hands sneaking either under his shirt or down his pants.

 

They did frisk them as well as do an instant background check on them if Q decided that he did indeed want to roll around with that night’s pickings. Surprisingly enough, none of the men had turned up to be assassins; just money hungry and losers.

 

“Don’t tell me you feel sad about that one,” James said as he moved the hibernating laptop so he could place the food plate in front of him. “He annoyed you faster than all the other ones.”

 

“What? Oh, I am upset that the enemy AI in this game is actually balanced, which means that I simply suck at playing the damned thing.”

 

At least he was quick to recover from his disappointments in his love life. “I can always finish the level for you, if you want,” Alec offered as he sat down on Q’s left side, James taking the right.

 

“No, no, that wouldn’t be the same. I suppose I’ll just have to get better.” He moaned when he took the first bite of the food, something he always did when it came to James’ food as long as it didn’t have any visible asparagus. “The food is heavenly as always, James. Are you sure you don’t want to open a restaurant? I’ll give you all the money you need to do that and you will have a constant flow of high paying customers.”

 

James chuckled, wiping the corners of Q’s mouth with his thumb. “When we retire, Q, and only if you don’t get bored of what I cook.”

 

Q laughed, leaning close to him. “I love it that you see me actually reaching the age of retirement, James, when my own fathered was helped leave this position behind.” He had suddenly turned serious, eyes downward. “Certain rumours have reached my ears and I really wish you’d let me set you up for life.”

 

That was not something they wanted to hear. And had Q drank something while they weren’t watching to talk like this? They were there to fight for him and protect him from his enemies. He wasn’t supposed to hint at the fact that he was making a last will and testament for himself.

 

James moved to take Q’s hand, squeezing it. “You have hired us to be your bodyguards, Q. I know you know what role we’re supposed to play and in which order the funerals take place, no matter how much you love my cooking or Alec’s massages or our frankly awful puns.”

 

“They are all really awful,” Q agreed. “I am only really laughing at them because of how much it must take the both of you—”

 

Alec leaned close and poked Q’s side to interrupt him, knowing just how ticklish he was. “Don’t try to change the subject.” Q sucked in his lips and frowned so Alec poked him again and again, until he had the young mob boss rolling on the ground in laughter, calling out for James to protect him and for him to stop. “Only if you tell us who is plotting what.”

 

Gasping for breath, Q rolled to the side, into a tight ball. “I would, if the rumour I heard had anything to do with that. Now will you two stop playing dirty? Or do I have to unleash my army of Roombas?”

 

Ah, those adorable and deadly things. They were created when a now imprisoned ally of his father but fierce oppose of his rule, had been foolish enough to bet his territory, men, and funds that Q wouldn’t be able to make them do anything else but clean – also implying that this life was not for the young man and that he should give up everything and just work for Apple or Google.

 

It had taken Q two hours to draw the plans – in his defence, it took him so long because he was wasted to the point of making out with both James and Alec on his work table, something neither of them discussed the following day and Eve was still huffing and puffing about it since she _knew_ that which she shouldn’t have –and then three more hours after he sobered up to complete them.

 

The foolish man didn’t even know what hit him. All of his guards had been shocked into submission, his security system had been deactivated, and all of the important files he planned on using against Q to make him step down just in case he wouldn’t keep up his end of the deal had been deleted – Q sent Steven Spielberg a thank you note because he had been inspired by R2D2 to equip his Roombas with USB sticks and one more to Shimon Shmueli for creating the USB flash drives before he could think of doing it.

 

After he had secured his position for real as the head of the family and everyone else who doubted him now started to respect him, Q kept three deadly Roombas then altered the others to be used to transport drugs.

 

“If you bring in the Roombas, you’ll be the one who plays dirty because you know we can’t bring ourselves to destroy anything you make,” James pointed out, pulling Q to his feet and starting to arrange his soft, wild hair and chic geek glasses only to be subjected to the man’s hard stare. “Okay, we can’t bring ourselves to do that on purpose.”

 

“I won’t bring out the Roombas if you keep your fingers to yourselves. Deal?” He held his hands out to them so they could shook on it, ending up sandwiched between them, their noses pushed up against his neck, their breath tickling him. “Okay, _now_ I am starting to regret getting rid of my lover. Let’s just say that my money wasn’t the only thing he was good at sucking.”

 

They both pulled back slightly, trying not to glance down. “You were supposed to get ticklish again and tell us that rumour that had you all serious,” James murmured, flinching when Q tugged on his ear.

 

“My neck is my weakness. Why do you think it’s constantly covered in hickies?” They really shouldn’t store this type of information, but they really couldn’t help but do it. “I suppose I did accidentally mislead you into thinking that the rumour was something serious with the way I started the whole thing, but honestly…” He pulled out his phone and shoved it in James’ face, eye twitching. “You two deserve it because Burj Al Arab finally sent me the bill for those _three floors_ you utterly destroyed when you thought the bloody cleaning crew was after me.”

 

James blinked slowly, looked at Alec, looked at the table, then grabbed the plate and shoved a forkful in Q’s mouth, Alec quickly taking the angry man’s phone away. “The food is getting cold, Q. It’s not good when it’s cold, honestly.”

 

Q’s eye still twitched.

 

***

 

Had he been too hard on his soft spots? After all, they were only doing their jobs and it was far better to receive a bill that he’d cover in a quarter of a day than to receive a funeral. But still, they should have realized their mistake when the supposedly deadly poisoned spear turned out to be nothing more than a foamy mop.

 

He shook his head. No, he had done the right thing. A serious talk and a promise to replace them for two weeks with five former-SEAL operatives was the right amount of pressure he needed to apply. Even if the two men were currently sulking besides him, Alec glancing at his hands every now and then while James kept looking at his neck.

 

“I’m sorry, Quartermaster,” he suddenly hear the voice of one of his generals, “but are you saying we shouldn’t use this new route for our smuggling?”

 

Oh, shit, shit. He had forgotten that he was in the middle of a meeting – but with two men like his bodyguards be his side and in his mind and the warehouse’s busted air conditioning making him think of a sauna, who wouldn’t? “Show me the map again and bring the numbers back up.” There, that should make it look like...Wait a minute. He really didn’t agree with the new route. And the numbers were all wrong, he was sure. “What’s wrong with the old one? And send me those numbers and the papers that led you to them.”

 

“As I explained ten minutes ago,” the man said awkwardly and all Q could think was thank god Eve was writing everything down because he was pretty sure that he had missed more than half a mission, “our men from inside the police have been removed, and we’ve been told that the new ones are incorruptible. On top of that, agencies dealing with drugs have all decided to ban together under the guidance of the DEA.”

 

The new proposed route didn’t sit well with him due to the fact that their _friends_ in the west did not know how to share and their boss had sword revenge on Q and his men for stealing more than half of the Golden Triangle from him. They were already practically bleeding money in that side of the world to keep their operations ongoing and their men and merchandise. If they started to use the same route as their greatest enemy, he’d end up having to spend the same amount of money – if not more – which would mean increasing the price and possibly losing quite a few of their customers.

 

That was something he wasn’t willing to do without studying the other options since he as well as his men were used to a certain kind of lifestyle. “I would like to continue this discussion tomorrow…” he trailed off and tilted his head towards Eve, the woman starting to tap on her tablet.

 

“One in the afternoon; a new location will be picked in lieu of this one due to the obvious,” thank God for little miracles, “and the coordinates will be sent after it is decided via coded message.”

“Thank you, Miss Moneypenny.” Everyone turned to look at him once again. “Meeting in which I would also like to be presented with alternatives. We are made out of money, but this is not on what I’d like to spend them.”

 

Everyone nodded approvingly and the meeting went on, Q spacing out once again not ten minutes later when the meeting moved on to the legal businesses he owned. But again, not his fault. How was he supposed to know when he hired them that his two bodyguards would end up being such a distraction? For that matter, how was he supposed to know that his initial sexual attraction to them would turn into something more?

 

He didn’t dare make a move on them because they were together and because they were really good bodyguards – to him, but not to the things around him – as well as good friends. He wouldn’t dare risk their current relationship. And yet, according to Eve and her sixth sense, there was some hope for the three of this. It was from her that he had got the rumour that the two of them—

 

James cleared his throat and gestured towards the men who were looking expectantly at him, half standing up. Finally, the meeting was at an end. Perfect; he wanted to hit the clubs and see if he could find a decent substitute this time – the last one had potential for the first three days and he had honestly been disappointed when he turned out to be just like all the other ones.

 

“Gentlemen, thank you for your hard work and I am sure that tomorrow’s meeting will be just as fruitful as this one.” And, God hoping, less boring and distracting. Maybe James would go for a looser suit and Alec would stop flexing his muscles when he got bored. Or maybe James would come with a suit painted on and Alec would start weightlifting in front of him – and he really shouldn’t be hoping for the latter thing to happen since a distracted leader was not good for business. “Until then, gentlemen…” He sat up and everyone straightened up, James draping his jacket over his shoulders, Alec picking up his attaché. “I wish you all a good day.”

 

“Are you feeling okay?” Eve asked as she walked him to his car, grabbing his shoulders and pulling him down so she could check his temperature with her cheeks. “You don’t feel warm.” She pushed his glasses away and looked into his eyes, nodding. “You don’t look unwell.”

 

“Are you going smell and taste me now to see if I am healthy?” He asked, voice muffled by the woman’s hand over his mouth. “Because if that’s the case, I’ll have to ask my snickering bodyguards to stop you before you turn into Lecter on me.”

 

She pinched his cheeks, eyes narrowed. “See if I worry about you the next time you stare blankly at a room full of silent and uneasy business associates with guns.” She pushed him in James’ arms who instantly wrapped around him, resting his head on top of his. “Did he eat today? Did he sleep last night?”

 

“Licked his plate clean, stopped moaning around three in the morning and I heard the weed start snoring not five minutes later. I also kept him in the sun, watered him, and Alec was finally given permission today to rid our precious flower of the aforementioned snoring weed,” James joked, earning an elbow to the stomach from Q and a pat on the shoulder from a very happy Eve.

 

He was losing face in front of his council, he was sure of that. Someone was probably going to start questioning his abilities yet again and he’d waste precious hours creating crazy things – though he preferred that to sending killers after them; assassinations were always so messy and they tended to weaken an organization almost as much as a mole.

 

“If you two are quite done treating me like a child, can we all get into our cars? My bed will be really cold tonight and I want to find someone to keep me warm,” he hissed, tapping foot against the ground, hands on his hips.

 

“Well, all you really have to do for that is to look–”

 

“Time is precious, Miss Moneypenny,” James interrupted Eve, turning Q towards the car. “And you know how picky he is with them, even if they do end up being nothing but trash.”

 

Eve tried to say something again, but Alec turned on the music in the car just as James shut the door behind Q, successfully blocking the woman voice and walking away from the car with her, both starting to hiss at each other, roll their eyes, and shrug.

 

“Isn’t this that one band you like?” Alec said as he turned the radio louder, slapping the driver’s hands away from the radio’s control. “Can you SHAZAM the song for me? I’m afraid my phone suddenly stopped working in the middle of your meeting.” He turned around and tapped Q’s nose to get his attention, holding the device out to him. “Can you look over it and tell me what it has?”

 

They were clearly trying to hide something from, but since they were not doing it in a violent way calmed Q down. No guns pointed at the woman’s head and pointed back at James, which meant that it wasn’t anything serious. It did have something to do with him since he kept seeing their lips forming the letter ‘Q’. Everything else was blocked by Alec’s phone and his inability to properly read lips.

 

“Alec, please tell that man-child to get in the car already and leave Miss Moneypenny alone.” He grabbed his phone and unlocked it, which seemed to have fixed the mysterious problem it had, Alec looking as innocent as they came when he got it back. “And I also want the both of you to teach me how to read lips.”

 

Hearing that, Alec slipped back inside the car, slamming the door shut, probably tipping James off since Q saw both he and Eve turn with their backs at the car. “Now why would you want to know something as boring as that?”

 

“Because I am curious by nature,” Q grumbled as he got out of the car, Alec hot on his heels.

 

That turned out to be a really good decision as a large truck drove right into his car, pushing it up against a wall. Alec quickly grabbed him and jumped with him behind some crates, James landing a headshot on the truck’s driver and Eve embedding one of her hidden knives in the chest of the first person who jumped out of the truck with an AK-47.

 

“Great, we have a mole,” Q grumbled, stealing the second gun Alec kept hidden in the back of his pants and starting to shoot their attackers in their knees.

 

Alec pulled him back and sat on top of him, growling. “I know you are trying to help, but James and I work best know that bullets can’t get to you. I imagine the same can be said about Eve.”

 

More gunfire, Alec reloading his weapon twice, cussing and James and Eve somehow managed to get to them mostly unharmed. “Truck’s full of them and of weapons,” James explained between thinning their numbers. “No idea how many; maybe 13 or 14. I can’t be sure since I think someone keeps switching weapon types and it’s throwing off my counting.”

 

Eve grabbed Q’s shoulder and Alec moved away from him just in time to avoid getting his shoulder pierced by a bullet. “Well, I’ll have someone count the bodies later. Do try not to be among them,” Eve said with a smile in her voice, pushing Q in front of her before his brain could process her words and refuse to leave without them.

 

The men that had stayed behind provided the two with cover and three of them even joined them on their mad dash through the warehouse – which turned out to be a really good thing as the attackers had somehow managed to infiltrate it and one of them even managed to get her in the shoulder.

 

“Never mind me, Q. Just keep going,” she hissed, face scrunched up in pain. “I am not going to do anything stupid like miss the opening of my grand hotel.”

 

But Q refused to let go of her hand, grabbing a gun off the ground and tugging her after him, his men clearing the way for them. “Right, right, and you are one week away from retirement and all those other clichés. You’re getting into a car with me and these three fine gentlemen, we’re getting _my_ bodyguards and I’m playing GTA with these fuckers.”

 

Hotwiring a car was easier in theory for him, but Eve could do it even with one arm – sort of – tied behind her back. She convinced him to sit in the back, one of the men taking the wheel and giving him his machinegun, Q proving that he was surprisingly good with one in real life, provided there was something – or someone – keeping him in place.

 

Not expecting anyone to return, much less with their target, they managed to run over three people, Q riddling with bullets two more. Two of the three men that were with him got seriously wounded after getting four more and loud sounds finally gave way to pathetic moaning.

 

“James! Alec!” Q screamed as he ran to where they had been hiding, his heart dropping in his stomach when he saw them lying in a pool of their own blood. He started to shake, hearing his own heart beating in his ears as he tried to see if he could find their pulse, more cars filled with his men finally appearing on the scene, their own shouting make it even more impossible for him to find their pulse. “Shut up, shut up!” He ordered, pushing his fingers against Alec’s neck, his palm over James’ chest.

 

He was dragged away by unseen men and stuffed in a car, his ordered ignored in favour of Eve’s.

 

***

 

James woke up feeling dizzy and numb, realizing that he should be thankful for that the second he rolled his head to the side and saw a heart monitor. A second later, the previous events came to him and he sat up, desperately looking around to see where he was and if he was alone, ignoring the pain that shut up his spine.

 

Q appeared out of nowhere, looking paler than usual, the bags under his eyes obvious to him despite the foundation he had used to hide them. “You’re safe; Alec’s safe. Sit back down and let me call the nurse.”

 

He refused to let Q go and, even in his weakened state, proved to have quite a good grin. He wanted to make sure Q was alright and that there was nothing wrong with him besides a serious case of insomnia.

 

“James, I’m okay. Please let go of my hand and let me get the nurse,” Q said slowly, caressing his face.

 

“Sure?” He croaked out, feeling like he had just swallowed glass.

 

Q smiled, pouring him a glass of water and holding it to his lips. “I just need a bit of sleep and I will be in perfect condition. Which is a lot more about you or Alec. Didn’t I tell you to wear bulletproof vests? At least when we’re going to these types of shady meetings.”

 

Well, if he was scolding him, then he was telling the truth. He released Q’s hand and turned to look at Alec, noting that the man had fewer tubes and wires sticking out from him and that he was snoring lightly.

 

“Mister Bond, I need your attention for a few moments,” someone said and James turned to see quite a beautiful woman doctor smiling softly at him and flashing a light in his eyes. “I am going to need you to follow this light. If you are dizzy or if it dims, please lift your hand.”

 

She poked, tapped and blinded him for thirty more minutes, asking him normal questions to see if he had any memory loss or if he was truly okay before smiling and helping him lie back down on the bed, covering him up as she turned to talk to Q. He tried to follow what she was saying, but the sound of her voice lulled him to sleep.

 

The next time he woke up, Q looked even more tired as he was talking with the nurse close to Alec’s bed, running his hand down the side of his face. He tried focusing on the woman’s words again, but her voice proved to be the best damned lullaby in the world, and off to dreamland he went again.

 

“I don’t care; this game is cheating, even if the enemy’s AI is balanced,” Q was grumbling the third time James woke up.

 

“Or maybe you are extremely tired? After all, you have been angrily hitting you tablet and your laptop’s keyboard for the past three days, you know,” Alec offered, a groan following as he sat up and entered James’ field of vision. “Also, sleeping beauty woke up before either one of us could kiss him.”

 

Q leaned over him and ran his hands down his face and chest, his touch as light as his smile. “I was expecting Alec to worry me most, but you insisted on surprising me in the most unpleasant way, James. Oh, drink some water before you start running that big mouth of yours,” he said as he pushed a glass of water to his lips. “And now that you are back in the land of the living with us, I can inform the both of you that from this point on—”

 

He didn’t think he had enough strength in him, but the ease with which he pulled Q to his chest might have had something to do with the fact that the young man was practically dead on his feet. “Alec, if you’d be so kind and if you could move, might you trot over to me so I can feel your body heat as well? I just want to be sure that you’re both here.”

 

Alec did what he was asked, nuzzling his neck as an added bonus. “James, can you convince our stubborn Q to sleep for more than three hours and on something that’s not that blasted chair that you are awake? He’s been busy tormenting the one whose orders have landed us in this cosy—”

 

“If you’re well enough, can you take off his shoes and pile him in my bed?” James interrupted Alec, struggling to keep the sleeping Q from falling. “He passed out the second you started talking. Not that I blame him.”

 

Alec clicked his tongue and picked James’ nose, eyes narrowed. “I am pretty sure it was your horrible smell that made him pass out.” He brushed his lips against Q’s temple, ignoring the outright shocked look James was giving him as his bed against his. “Also, let me tell you that you are one lucky bastard since the bullet missed your heart by two millimetres.” Q’s glasses disappeared from his face and Alec threw his leg over the both of them.

 

Q was closer to them than a normal employer should have been and they were even friends, but never in their lives, save that one drunken night which they only regretted because they weren’t sober enough to make something permanent out of it, had they cuddled up to Q. Sure, they hugged, they carried Q around when he was tipsy or when he jokingly asked for it, rubbed suntan lotion on him when he completely forgot himself do to a book, report, or program, but for Alec to almost kiss him and then cuddle with him meant that his partner had serious brain damage.

 

“Don’t think so much, James,” Q murmured, pushing closer to him, effectively making him freeze and forget how to breathe. “And Alec’s been trying to get your attention for the past hour, rubbing by accident against me in the process.” He turned to pat Alec’s head, tugging him down by his nose to peck his lips.

 

“This is not the first dream that started like this, but I have to admit that this is the first time we’re in a hospital and neither of us is dressed like a nurse,” he tried to joke, throat dry.

 

Q rewarded him with that little smirk he reserved for his prey on the dance floor, looking absolutely breathtaking as usual. “Do you remember that rumour I was telling you about a week ago?”

 

He had been out for that long? Wait, Q had avoided sleeping for a week? “The one before you offered to buy me a restaurant, yes?” He looked down when he felt Q starting to caressing neck, Alec running his toe against his calf. “You didn’t happen to hear it from Eve who just happened to walk on me and Alec having a conversation that employees shouldn’t have?”

 

Q grinned and kissed his neck. “If it is quite all right with you, I might put the long string of most unfortunate choices in favour of you two.” He rested his finger against his lips, sitting up enough to allow Alec to sneak between them and start nibbling on his ear. “And let me just tell you that sleeping with the boss has a lot of perks.”

 

James tried to keep his reaction a secret, but the monitor he was connected to insisted on letting everyone know that his heart skipped a beat. “That thing is defective,” he said quickly. “Still, I am curious how you would react if I were to say no.”

 

Q instantly pulled away from him and properly sat up, holding his head as a wave of dizziness washed over him. “I would be sad, but I would not fire you or have you killed. However, I would have to put some distance between us until I can collect myself, something that I should probably start to do right—”

 

James pulled him down, regretting it when Q’s head bumped against his chest. Alec snorted and opened his mouth, but James was quick to shove the covers in it. “Curiosity answered, Q, and you won’t have to do anything like that.” He scratched Q behind his ear and kissed the top of his head, feeling him relax against him. “Would you be ever so kind to answer my curiosity about how your mouth tastes when we are both sober?” The answer he got back was a snore that was both disappointing and good to hear at the same time.

 

Alec snorted, rubbing his nose against the trapped James’ neck before kissing Q’s temple. “I told you that your voice puts him to sleep. But don’t take it in a bad way, James. We were both really worried about you and we’ll have time to make out until a bullet finds its way in one of our vital organs.”

 

He turned his head to look at Alec, frowning. “But never Q’s.”

 

“What sort of boyfriends slash bodyguards would we be if we allowed that to happen?” Alec asked, biting his lower lip. “Speaking of which, I’m going to need you to back me up when he wakes up because he’s thinking about replacing us as bodyguards with ten former navy SEALS and probably locking us up in a bulletproof room to keep us safe or something like that.”

 

“Well, if he locks himself in there with us…” He trailed off and both of them grinned, Q sighing in blessed ignorance in his sleep.


	11. Brothers till the end

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lovely Amelia asked for a fic where James and Franz got along. Sadly, I realized that I focused on Alec and Q too much. But this could get another chapter if Amelia so wishes (but after I fill in the other prompts and update one of mi fics/ put down one of my ideas).

The universe and time, according to the great scientific minds of the world, could not be stopped. And yet, James found out that it could. All you needed to add to the equation was a huge shock and to be facing someone you thought to be long dead and the flow of everything stopped.

 

“Welcome, James. It’s been a long time…and, finally, here we are. What took you so long?”

 

And for everything to start up again, you just needed to hear their voice to be convinced beyond a doubt that yes, you are indeed face to face with your long lost step-brother who was really there and not a ghost – and who also happened to be the head of an organization that your dead boss and sort-of adoptive mother which had no relation to this supposedly dead relative sent you after.

 

“I thought you were dead,” James said simply, the crowd parting for him, eyes on their head to see if they were allowed to rip him to shreds as he slowly made his way down to the main floor.

 

His step-brother looked surprised, holding his hand up to keep the mountain of a man James had just seen kill another with simply his thumbs and force from attacking him. “You seem genuinely happy to see me, brother. I thought you’d try to kill me on sight, or at least to escape and let your precious MI6 know of my plans.” He got up and held his hand out to James, smirking. “If this is all an act, I’ll have to congratulate you on how much you evolved from that angry little man you have become after Miss Lynd’s death.”

 

James squeezed the man’s hand, eyes narrowed. “Why did you allow that to happen? I had no quarrel with you or with Quantum; I didn’t even know it existed until you had the poor woman killed—”

 

“No, no, James,” the man interrupted him, pulling him in a tight hug. “I had no hand in your lover’s death. But the white king did as he pleased when I wasn’t looking and before you even bring up M’s death, I cared for the woman as she watched over my beloved and wayward brother.”

 

He didn’t detect any hint of lying in the man’s voice, nor would it make sense for him to do so as James was in the middle of the wolf’s den and he could be easily killed. Well, unless his step-brother was trying to inflict mental anguish on him and toy with him before he gave the order, and that thought made James’ heart heavy because he was tired of playing these types of games.

 

“I have to admit that I find that hard to believe, especially after witnessing this meeting. You seem to have everyone under your thumb and with Nine Eyes about to go live...”

 

His step-brother laughed and a few people in the crowd followed his example, their laughter dying in their throats when they saw the cold look they received. “Nine Eyes was born as a direct result of my sad _human_ condition which brings with it an inability to know everything that’s going on.” Franz stepped back from James, resting his hand on his back. “I am so happy you found me, James. I was becoming disappointed with you and thought that you did not wish to see me.”

 

A woman in a short skirt and a very generous cleavage appeared from somewhere, two champagne glasses on the silver tray she carried. “A call would have been less dramatic,” James said slowly, taking the glass, but not drinking from it. “Then again, you’ve always had a thing for the theatre, didn’t you, Franz?”

 

His step-brother laughed again, taking a sip of his own glass and then from James, to show him that it wasn’t poisoned and that he had nothing to fear. “I see that you’re still answering questions with only a half truth, James. But this is a conversation to be had in private, not in front of so many that are already thinking of betraying me because they finally understand why they weren’t allowed to kill the famed 007, the one who brought down so many similar organizations to ours.”

 

James was surprised to hear that, but at least it finally made sense why so many of the people he fought in the past had gone through such elaborate plans to kill him, always offering him and his companions a way out. “But you had so many loyal ones who practically offered themselves to me on a silver platter. And all of them bad men, who deserved what they got in the end.”

 

Franz chuckled, now leading James out of the room, faceless men that looked like they could crush anyone without actually trying rushing to open the doors for them, bowing their heads respectfully as they passed them. “None of them as loyal as you think them to be, dear brother. I am afraid that they were only trying to get away from me with their wretched lives and departments that they were leading in my name. They only did what I told them when it became clear that they would either face you on my terms or risk getting tortured for the rest of their miserable lives.”

 

They exited to the roof of the building, where a chopper was running and waiting for them, but as Franz walked towards it, James stopped. “I can’t come with you, brother. I am... Q... My Quartermaster will be in a heap of trouble if I suddenly disappeared with someone that’s considered MI6’s enemy.”

 

He thought his brother would turn around with a gun pointed at him whose trigger he would squeeze and finally rid the world of 007, but that wasn’t the case. Franz only turned with his hands clasped in front of his stomach, a curious look on his face. “You’re talking about the young Quartermaster, right? The smart young man whose hand was forced into accepting a position much too hard for his age and the one who also managed to evolve from Silva’s mere puppet to his executioner, right?”

 

By instinct, James frowned, his lips pulling back to reveal his white teeth, almost snarling like the MI6 dog that the vast majority of his enemies saw him as. But they couldn’t be more wrong if they tried, because he had stopped being MI6’s dog a long time ago. He was Q’s, even if many thought that he constantly bit that thin hand that he’d love to cover in kisses.

 

“You are correct,” he growled, the men around them now all reaching towards their jackets, Franz narrowing his eyes and shaking his head at them. “And I would appreciate it if you didn’t bring his age in this or call him a puppet. He’s so much more than that,” he breathed out, flexing his fingers.

 

“Brother, I didn’t mean to insult,” Franz said quickly, squeezing his shoulders. “I am more than aware of his capabilities as my own scientists are trying to reverse-engineer those wonderful devices he creates. James—”

 

“I can’t force him to wear the brand of a traitor because you love being dramatic, Franz,” James interrupted his brother, shrugging free. “Even if that means that we’re going to be enemies.” It hurt him to say that, to openly invite the only person that was actual family to hate him and hunt him down, to hurt his friends. But Q was important and Q did so many things for him and he was already in a lot of trouble for letting him steal the car and for pretending that the new tracking system.     

 

“And I am the one who loves being dramatic, James?” Franz asked, eyes sparkling with amusement. “You simply have to die and the man you care for will be safe.” James felt cold and empty, the world moving in slow motion around him “And I promise that nothing bad will happen to him because your organization will become mine in a few months time,” his brother continued to explain, not affected in the least that he had just told James that he was going to kill him – and how silly of him to think that this man would feel anything, since the last time they saw each other, they were only ten years old.

 

Letting out a heavy sigh, James nodded, accepting his fate. He spread his arms and closed his eyes, bracing for the pain that always followed the bullet that pierced his skin, hoping that Franz would be kind enough to offer him a quick death.

 

But the pain didn’t come, nor did the sound of a gun getting fired. Just Franz’s laughter and slap on the back of his head. “I didn’t mean that I’ll actually kill you, you silly man.” He grabbed his arm and a pair of doctors appeared from God knew where, pushing something that looked similar to what Q had used to inject him with the nanomachines. “However, I will have to destroy that beautiful car you stole. But I’ll buy you a new one and no harm will befall your Quartermaster for his role in this.”

 

***

 

Q didn’t cry. It was just his allergies that acted up and made his eyes run and swell up, not his crushed heart at James’ death. Plus, MI6 had changed so much after Denbigh more or less took over that he couldn’t afford to show any signs of weakness, the man openly threatening him with sticking in a modern version of the Tower if he was no longer capable to fulfil his Quartermaster duties – which now meant that he had to ensure the program ran without a hitch, constantly create new firewalls and track down the hackers that were ‘foolish enough to attempt to blind Nine Eyes’.

 

“You won’t have enough prisons to hold the people who value their freedom and privacy,” Q growled when he was being forced to track down a seventeen year old that had helped him in the past to keep his agents safe.

 

Denbigh grasped his shoulders and squeezed them tight, sneering in his ear. “The people don’t know what’s good for them and as long as we take out all the weeds before they grow too strong, the garden will be alright.”

 

If Q had any doubts about Denbigh’s sanity before, now there was no room left for doubt that the man was insane. He saw himself as God – not a god, but god himself – and Nine Eyes as the forbidden fruit that transformed the moral world back into Eden. So what if people protested all over the world against it? So what if Nine Eyes was under constant attack from independent hackers with no ties to any criminal organizations? So what if the rulers of the world were now trying to backpedal and get it outlawed? They were nothing but snakes that tried to ruin the perfect world, as far as Denbigh was concerned.

 

“And just to be sure that you won’t turn into a weed,” Denbigh added, dragging Q off his chair and into Medical, “I think it’s time for you to get the leash that your previous masters spared you of.”

 

He didn’t make a peep when he was injected with nanomachines, biting his lower lip to keep himself from flinching just so he wouldn’t give the man the satisfaction of knowing that he had hurt him. The only time he openly fought the mad man was when Denbigh tried to put the digital leash on his minions, the agents that were present there – now nothing more than simple guards for servers and no longer double ohs because the Nine Eyes program had rendered them completely useless – more than happy to brandish the simple tasers they now had to back him up.

 

Shocked that so many were against him and aware that he might not get out of there alive as his loyal bodyguards were outnumbered 2 former double oh agents and at least ten boffins to one, Denbigh took a step back and raised his hands in a defensive manner. “I am only doing this to protect them,” he said slowly, trying to keep his eyes on everyone in the room.  

 

“No, what I am doing is to protect them,” Q shot back, moving to sit in front of everyone even as the bodyguards pulled out their guns and pointed them at his head. “Now, you can either kill me right now, thus rendering your bloody program helpless long enough for someone to actually manage to get in until your own dogs go through my programs to close all the doors or you can back off my people and I will continue to keep your program safe.”

 

“You’re forgetting your place, Quartermaster,” Denbigh growled, lips twisted in a grimace. “I am your superior and—”

 

“Actually, I am his superior,” Mallory intervened, slowly making his way through the crowd and positioning himself in front of Q, freezing the bodyguards with the coldness in his eyes – something that would have made the old M very proud. “Our agencies _merged_ , C, even if you ended up with more power over mine that you should have.”

 

“The Prime Minister—”

 

“Was tricked, as usual,” M finished for Denbigh, smirking when he saw how much that frustrated the other man. “But I still have the final word when it comes to certain things, such as when the Quartermaster is to go on a forced vacation due to the stress he is under.” He turned to look at Q, smiling softly. “Q, I know you were very affected after 007’s death and C has been ruthless with you, so I am ordering you on a one month vacation effective immediately.”

 

“My department—”

 

“Your department will not undergo that procedure as I found some doctors who believe that the nanomachines can cause severe damage to the blood cells.” It was a complete lie and everybody knew that, but the second Denbigh was presented with the papers that seemed to support that aberration and a boffin casually let it slip that his phone had started to record on its own since the second M opened his mouth and that it looked like the file was going to get sent to every major news station in the world, the snake of a man stormed away.   

 

But this was only a temporary win and Q knew it, so he tried to fight being sent away, but no one wanted to listen to him, R and Tanner going so far as to pack a luggage for him and booked him a little cabin on a beach in Saint Tropez – everyone in MI6 had chipped in – while Eve took his cats from him and informed him that she would take care of them until he returned with a nice tan, no bags under his eyes, and at least ten kilos on his bones.

 

Blackmail mixed with a hostage situation, that’s what it really was, but an idea crossed Q’s mind so he went on his vacation with only enough of a fight not to make anyone suspicious. He spent a week trying to block the nanomachines that gave away his position, secretly working on a program on a offline laptop that would copy his movements for that entire week while he ran around the world to discover who had killed his favourite agent and friend and also try to stop Denbigh – because he was sure that there was a connection there.

 

His detective work revealed that C was connected with an organization named SPECTRE who was also behind Quantum and many more others like it that they had fought in the past. Not many were eager to talk about the mysterious number 1 that was the head of SPECTRE, but they pushed him in the path of a Miss Madeleine Swann, the only living relative and daughter of Mr. White, the man behind Quantum.

 

It was said that she knew how to reach the feared man, no one really knowing why Blofeld didn’t kill her because even though she woman was hiding in a clinic in the Alps, she wasn’t doing a good job of it since people knew where she was.

 

Well, Q planned on finding out why – maybe she was the man’s lover, maybe the man had promised her father to protect her, or maybe Blofeld was her real father – and that translated in a twelve hour flight for him, something that rendered him even more tired and sick than he already was.

 

He really wished those where the only reasons why he failed in convincing the woman to help him, Madeleine still too bitter over her father’s recent death – news that shocked Q to the core because as far as he knew, their files on the man had him as dying in the desert at the hands on his former colleagues – to want to hear anything even remotely connected to him.

 

But Q wouldn’t give up so fast, not after spending a week flying around the world and getting shot every other day, so he waited for her to leave for home, drinking health drink after health drink until the health bar closed and he was forced to move his waiting in the cold snow that was outside.

 

“Mister Boothroyd,” she snapped at him when she bumped into him, not looking worried at all about his lightly blue tint of his lips or that the tips of his hair that were sticking out of the cap knitted for him by a drunken Eve who had lost a bet with the agent he had yet to meet face to face, “if you do not leave now and leave me alone, I will have you arrested.”

 

“Miss Swann, _please_ —”

 

“Leave!” She screamed this time, covering her ears with her hands and Q left, dejected and lonely, cussing that he didn’t have James’ charm because the man wouldn’t have had any trouble getting her to do whatever he wanted after a few smiles and winks. “And if I ever catch you here ever again, I will call the cops.”

 

He decided that it wouldn’t do him any good to push his already horrible luck that night and he slowly made his way back to the cable car, wondering just how worse his luck could get and if the woman would either shock him tomorrow when he would break in her office before calling the cops or just call them directly.

 

The answer to his first question came as soon as the cable car’s door closed and he realized that he had been followed and he used the cusses that he had learned from the one agent he had never seen face to face, but was in almost constant contact with him. How it was possible for anyone, no matter how tired or cold they were, to miss the four bulky and tall men that were now sandwiching him between them, not so subtly taking his three phones out of his pockets while also holding his arms so tightly that bruises were already visible was beyond him.

 

“Stop making his hard on yourself,” one of the men growled, trying to punch him and missing, hitting his partner just as the cable car came to a stop and Q managed to slither away.

 

He broke into a run and tried to lose them in a closet, but the men saw him and followed him in, locking the door behind them before a rain of fists and kicks fell on him. He did manage to save his honour and land a few punches himself, one hard enough to dislodge a man’s molar and he was so proud of himself, even if his hand was now swollen and hurting.

 

“It is only normal for me to return it,” the man snarled and punched Q straight in the face, breaking his nose and glasses, sending him flying backward into the shelves which broke and brought down the countless cleaning and defrosting liquids that were on them.

 

Q tried to pull himself up and use whatever was around him as a weapon, but the men did not waste any time and began kicking him, forcing him to curl up on himself in order to avoid getting his ribs broken.

 

His last thought before he lost the fight with consciousness was one of regret. Regret that he wasn’t better trained and that he had failed as both a Quartermaster, as a pseudo-agent and that he had let his sorrow overcome his common sense and he went on his revenge spree without any form of backup.

 

***

 

From the way the world around him was moving, he realized that he was being dragged. And from the flash of pain that travelled through his body whenever he tried to move, but also that he was tightly tied because he couldn’t really move his legs or hands too far apart. He didn’t have to be a genius to know that he had a hood over his head; the darkness combined with the rough material against his stinging skin a clear indication of that.

 

“What’s this?” A voice that he hadn’t heard before asked, the hood over his face carefully being pulled off. “I told you not to hurt him,” the man snapped, cupping his face, fingers hovering over his broken lip and nose.

 

“Boss, he tried to run away,” the one with the missing tooth stuttered, taking a nervous step forward. “And we just—”

 

“Confused him with a punching back, yes,” the man interrupted him and fiddled with a phone, offering Q a huge smile as a woman walked in with a wheelchair. “So sorry about this, Quartermaster; they are not the brightest bulbs and it was my mistake for thinking that they would be capable of following a simple instruction such as ‘don’t hurt a single hair on his head’.” The last part had been snarled, the men cowering in a corner as the woman helped Q sit down in the wheelchair, strapping him in. “But don’t worry; we’ll patch you right up and I’ll punish them accordingly.”

 

Q grabbed the man’s hand before he could move away, his one good eye narrowing. “You can drop the act,” he wheezed out. “I won’t tell you anything and I won’t help you no matter what you do, so you can throw me in that cliché dungeon of yours and get on with torturing me without patching me up.”

 

The man laughed, easily pulling his hand free to ruffle his hair. “I understand something now, so thank you. But don’t worry; despite the rough way you were treated, they did not bring you here so I could extract information from you or use you as leverage against MI6.” He started to wheel him away, people opening doors for them. “Someone was really worried about you and I wanted to surprise them and keep you safe.”

 

Q snorted, regretting it not a second later. “I can safely say that you failed with the latter.”

 

“You are right, of course, and I am deeply sorry about that.” The man stopped and moved to kneel in front of him, honestly looking apologetic. “Quartermaster, I know it’s hard for you to believe me, but this is the exact opposite of what I wanted to happen. I wanted you safe for—”

 

“Franz, what’s—Q!”

 

The world stopped for Q and the pain he was feeling wasn’t from his wounds, but from his very soul and he wanted to cry because the person who was now kneeling in front of him was James and he was very much breathing. But it was too good to be true and Q closed his eyes and turned his head away, refusing to believe.

 

“Q, I can explain if you’ll just let me,” James pleaded with him, hands hovering around him but not daring to touch. “Franz, what happened to him? Who did this to him?” He accidentally touched Q’s split lip and the man let out a whimper without meaning to, trying to move his entire body away from James. “No, I didn’t mean to hurt you...” James trailed off and rested his hands Q’s lap.

 

Franz cleared his throat, trying to get James’ attention. “I am going to give you privacy to talk, but James, I’d advise you to take him to the medical ward before you do anything else.” He patted the still kneeling former-agent’s back, smiling a little at Q. “I’ll deal with the bastards, don’t worry.”  

 

James wheeled him in a white room where a nurse injected him with what had to be morphine before the doctors started to patch him up and x-ray every part of his body, wrapping a bandage around his chest – assuring James that his ribs were bruised, not broken – and after connecting him to an IV – because he was dehydrated and he had forgotten to eat more than once a day after his agent supposedly died – they left them alone.

 

Q really wished they didn’t because that meant that he and James were going to talk now and even with the morphine numbing his brain and entire system, he was still sure his heart would break when the man asked him to work for him, completely destroying the friendship Q thought they had and really turning him nothing more than a tool.

 

“M gave you time off to rest, Q,” James started, sitting on the edge of the bed and taking the hand that wasn’t in a cast in his, tapping his knuckles. “You have no idea through what I went when Alec didn’t find you—”

 

“What _you_ went through?” Q hissed, pulling his hand free from his grasp. “My heart stopped when the nanomachines in your bloodstream suddenly showed no vital signs. My soul was crushed when I was presented with your carbonized body!” He realized that he was yelling because his throat was scratchy and his ears were ringing. But he didn’t care and he would have loved to slap the bastard, but the morphine made him dizzy and weak. “Do you have any idea what **_I_** went through when I attended your funeral and my computer still showed you dead?”

 

“I didn’t think—”

 

“No, you didn’t. But then again, you never do.” Q let out a shaky breath, counting backwards from ten to one to keep himself from crying. “And if your plan was to bring me here and turn me into your bloody marionette, then I will let you down as I did Silva and you can go—”

 

With a low growl, James was sitting on top of him, hugging him tightly. “The only plan I had involving you after I left MI6 was to keep you safe and alive. I never thought that you would be so affected by my apparent death that you would seek out my killers.” He pushed his lips against the side of his head and carefully lowered Q back down on the bed. “I truly don’t think, or else I would have gone about this in a different way.”

 

Q wanted to ask if James would have sent those men to clubber him before staging his death, but decided that the silent treatment was all that the person he had foolishly considered his friend deserved. He kept his mouth shut when James explained who Franz was – although a part of him still insisted on being happy for him because he had been reunited with his step-brother – and when James attempted to make small talk by asking him how everyone was – he wasn’t going to become a traitor and he wanted to knock on James’ head and ask him how he thought they felt after laying his carbonized remains to rest.

 

But James ignored the silence and carried on talking, even as Q’s eyelids grew heavy with both physical and mental tiredness and the white room suddenly dissolved into his office under the Thames where he was building a casket in which James’ lifeless body was resting.

 

When he woke up, he was in a different room, on a bed so soft that he had to poke it to be sure that it was actually there and with huge windows that looked over a beautiful garden where all sorts of coloured birds and strange animals pranced around.

 

It was beautiful and Q was sure that it was an attempt at Eden, but he was also aware of all the snakes that slithered just outside this golden cage he was stuck in, so he rolled on his side and closed his eyes, trying to come up with a plan to escape before anyone shoved the apple down his throat.

 

***

 

It had been three days since Q unwillingly changed addresses and the young man hadn’t said a single word, ate like a bird and only because the doctors threatened with hooking him up to IVs, slept like a rabbit which meant that he jolted awake at the smallest of noises, and acted as if James wasn’t with him. And it hurt Alec because every time he saw James, the man looked sadder, but he didn’t blame Q because the man had suffered a lot because of the hastily made plans.

 

“I knew he was young from his voice, but I had no idea he was this young,” muttered Alec after he finally managed to be silent enough to tip toe to Q’s room and take a peek at him – because no one dared to turn on the cameras or microphones in his room – jumping in James’ bed and pushing his feet against the almost mourning man’s back. “And I want to call M crazy for giving a teenager the Quartermaster position, but he saved my ass more times than I could count.”

 

And while that was true and Alec had fallen for the posh voice that had kept him alive even before it belonged to the Quartermaster – because he had been tasked with watching over Franz the second the old M got wind that he was up for the Number 1 position of a possibly future enemy organization unless anyone did anything about it – he still waited for James to start mocking him, say that his problem lied in the fact that he couldn’t count past how many fingers he had. However James remained silent and unmoving, like a statue, lost in dark thoughts that would keep him up all night if Alec didn’t take matters into his own hands.

 

“Give him time,” he said slowly, wrapping himself against James’ back, starting to nibble on his neck. “He’ll understand that you are not a traitor and that our goals aren’t world domination, as it might look.”

 

James let out a small snort and Alec felt some of the tension in his shoulders disappear. “Seeing that Franz has a finger stuck in every pie around the world, it isn’t hard to see why anyone would think that, especially since most of his associates have ties with the underworld.”

 

Alec laughed, because James had a point, but in this day and age, was there really anyone that didn’t have such ties? Even them when they were honest to God double oh agents had friends that either smuggled weapons all over the world and helped them whenever they were asked or friends whose simple glare was enough to get cops to honestly apologize for bothering them.

 

“Q’s smart,” a statement that felt like a lie given that the young man sounded like he was close to coughing himself in a coma and admitted that he had a huge fever when he had broken Alec out of a completely digitalized prison. “With a bit of time, he will lend you his ear, learn the true and forgive you for playing dead.”

 

“I could give him eternity and he wouldn’t forgive me,” James growled and Alec turned him around, kissing him hungrily and roughly, trying to suck away the defeat that didn’t suit him at all.

 

“You stubborn and foolish bastard, give him time and give him credit,” Alec insisted, nails digging in his arms. “And don’t think that by constantly being around him, you’ll get him to change his mind faster.” He knew that James planned on camping in Q’s room until the young man said the light of reason and his words were not out of jealousy for the interest James hand in him, but for fear that his foolish lover would push Q away.

 

“I can’t leave him alone either. He’ll think his words were true and then he’ll probably try to break free, end up getting more hurt and...” James groaned, pulling away from Alec. “Franz shouldn’t have brought him here. Not like this, not before I got a chance to talk with him first.”

 

Alec sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Being the level-headed on was just not his style and it exhausted him. “I never said that you should abandon him in that room until that pretty brown hair of his turns white.” He tried to pull James into a hug again, but the man got off the bed and started to pace around the room and Alec knew that at this point, there was nothing that he could do until he was done with his thought process to get him to relax – and he really did mean nothing, sexual activity included.

 

James paced back and forth so much that Alec thought he was going to make a hole through the floor and he was so lost in his own thoughts – his frown getting deeper and deeper every time a possible outcome he didn’t like crossed his mind – that he didn’t even notice or hear Franz entering his room.

 

“It would seem that my plan has backfired, Alec,” Franz said slowly as Alec sat him down at a table and pushed a glass of whiskey his way, keeping the bottle for himself. “Then again, I should have run it past you before I did it, but since my last one worked so well and James accepted my offer,” which shocked Alec to the core when it happened because he was sure that James would act before he had all the data and end up trying to bring down his step-brother, “I thought this one would go without a hitch.”

 

Alec snorted, wondering for what had to be the millionth time if the two men really didn’t share at least a single DNA string given that they both had horrible plans and more back luck than good. Franz more so than James, what with entrusting someone as obviously unstable as Denbigh with so much power, only to find himself and SPECTRE crippled once Nine Eyes was up and running.

 

Shaking his head, Alec poured Franz another glass. “I am not saying that it was a bad idea to get Q out of there because it was obvious to anyone with a brain that he was going to poke his nose where he shouldn’t and Denbigh would have had him killed, but you should have sent me to get him _after_ talking with James about it.”

 

Franz cringed and nodded emptying his second glass in one gulp. “Can you go talk with the young man? I was thinking that I should do it myself, but—”

 

“You focus on SPECTRE and Denbigh and I’ll deal with this other mess that brain of yours caused,” Alec interrupted him, flinching when the man’s cat sunk its claws and teeth in his leg for daring to insult its master. He would have promised to make it into a fur coat, as he always did, if it wasn’t for the fact that the furry bastard gave him an idea – which he hoped wouldn’t end up being thrown in his face because he was attached to his eyes and skin.

 

James ended up pacing for one more hour before he finally threw himself next to Alec and instantly fell asleep, grumbling in his sleep – which panicked Alec a little because James _never_ did that since it was a deadly habit for a double oh agent – and tossing and turning, reaching for the gun that wasn’t under his pillow in his sleep.

 

At the tenth kick he got in the shins, a light bulb went off above Alec’s head and he slapped himself for forgetting about it. Getting up and fishing the one object he really looked after and went in search of that annoying fur-ball, deciding that he shouldn’t waste anymore time in building a bridge between the two men – that and he was also really worried at how thin and pale the man had looked, the only reason why he didn’t check for his pulse being that Q had let out a shaky breath followed by a little whine when he turned on his side.

 

Of course the cat was nowhere to be found and all the people he had bumped into looked at him as if he was mad when he asked them about the animal, an exhausted Franz that was only then making his way back to his room mentioning that his cat tended to love the small garden that Q had access to and that he might find it in there.

 

“I hope you’re not planning on killing him, Alec,” Franz said in that voice tone he reserved only for those he wanted to intimidate and Alec wanted to laugh – but he was too tired – because it had been him who had taught him that trick. “It’s not his fault you’re always in his way or in his spot.”

 

Alec sighed. “Though I am tempted to really make him into a fur coat because I swear I’ll end up needing stitches one of these days—”

 

“I will use that new machine of mine on you, Alec, our friendship and your relationship with my brother be damned,” Franz warned, eye twitching. “All I need is to stick a needle here,” he pushed his finger against Alec’s temple, the sadistic and slightly psychopathic side that M feared would fully take over if he was left without proper guidance shining through, “and your mind will be a clean slate that I can mould however I want it.”

 

“We both know that you won’t really do that, Franz. Mainly because you like me too much, but also because your brother has very deep feelings when it comes to me.” They were very deep feelings, feelings that the sappy people who watched too many romance movies without their friends knowing had a special name for, but he wasn’t going to be one using it. It wasn’t his to say when referring to himself and James had to say it first – he didn’t watch romance movies, but his hidden Kindle was stuffed full of romance novels. “Plus, I don’t want to hurt the furry beast.”

 

The look of complete lack distrust Franz gave was expected. “Don’t make me get a new cat. I like this cat, even if he sheds everywhere.”

 

Rolling his eyes, Alec pushed Franz in his room and then quickly made his way to Q’s room, trying to sneak out to the garden, get the cat, sneak out of his room and then knock on his door like a normal person so he wouldn’t freak the man even more than he already was. The only problem with that plan was that Q wasn’t in his room.

 

He wasn’t in his bed, or under it, or behind the door – which was never looked from the outside because Q was a sort of guest, not an actual hostage – or in the bathroom, and the crutches he was using because of his sprained ankle were gone.

 

Panic didn’t even begin to explain what Alec felt in that second. He checked the closet and even the ceiling just to be sure that Q hadn’t gained super-powers overnight, quickly running out of the room and signing in front of a camera, asking the night security guards if they had seen the young man leave the room and if they did, why hadn’t he or James been notified.

 

 _“The only person that entered and left the room today was Mister Bond_ ,” was the quick reply and a little light came on in Alec’s head, the man heading directly for the inner garden, opening the door with a bit too much force which caused a lot of the animals to get startled and make noise.

 

Alec braced himself for a stampede when he saw the bushes starting to rustle, but all that came out was an obviously scared Q, struggling to use the crutch and keep the furry monster in his arms without getting scratched – although Alec doubted that would happen, seeing that he was hearing the thing purr from where he was standing.

 

“I am still not saying anything, so feel free to either start torturing me for information or kill me.” He put the fluffy beast down and held his crutch tighter, looking like he was getting ready for a fight – which was so adorable that Alec almost let out a squeak. “Personally, I’d prefer if you’d let me go, but if those two are my only options, I’d suggest killing me. It would spare you the mess and me the pain.”

 

It made sense for Q to assume that he was there to either torture or kill him, the scar on his right side of the face that he ended up with during the mission with James in which his partner assumed that he had died – but they quickly got over that because as double oh agents, they understood the necessity for this type of secrecy – making him look even scarier than he already was. But it was still sad that Q assumed that James would really allow anyone to hurt him or end his life.

 

“Quartermaster,” he breathed out and the pain and betrayal on the other face felt like a sharp knife in his heart, “I am here to have a talk with you and introduce you to that hissing monster next to you.” Because of course the cat would instantly get attached to Q and swear its furry loyalty to him, ready to attack all those who might hurt Q.

 

“You are also here?” Q said in a shaky voice, his green eyes getting drowned in unshed tears. “I thought...” He trailed off and snorted, wiping his eyes. “MI6 was doomed even before I became Quartermaster, wasn’t it? If even you, the second agent M trusted, are working for Blofeld...”

 

Q looked so defeated and tired that Alec was afraid he’d drop dead where he stood. “Neither I nor James are traitors, Q. And neither are you for associating with us. It is true that Denbigh worked for Fr—Blofeld,” Q let out a little groan and struggled to turn with his back to Alec, but the man quickly caught him and hoisted him in his arms. “I am not going to let you hop away from me, Q. You will let me explain everything to you because I know for sure that James tried to get some warmth and kindness back in your eyes before doing that.”

 

“You’re free to tell me as many lies as you want. I refuse to make Nine Eyes better or safer than it already is and if your boss wants to know anything related to the people who try to bring it down, then you are just wasting your breath.” He started to struggle, but stopped the second the cat hopped on him and started to purr, sighing in defeat and looking embarrassed.

 

But Alec was aware that the cat on him was just an excuse he used to stop struggling, the young man hoping that what he had to say exonerated them in his eyes. “Christ, you weigh less than I thought you did.” He tossed him a bit into the air and Q hugged the cat and shut his eyes tightly, letting out a little whine. “Why don’t I have someone in the kitchen prepare something light for you?”

 

“I am not hungry.” His weak voice and the growling stomach told Alec otherwise. “Anyway, you are here to waste your breath, not feed me.”

 

Alec plopped Q down on a bench and draped his jacket around his legs, quickly sending a text to the kitchen workers. He was going to get the man eating even if he was going to have to force whatever they got down his throat. “The mission you guided me on even before you became the Quartermaster was to keep Blofeld as you know him, on the right path.” He put his phone in Q’s lap, squeezing his knee gently. “There’s an encrypted message from M for you there. Well, I assume it’s from M and I assume it’s for you because I couldn’t open it and I got it on the day she died.”  

 

Q hesitated to pick up the phone and it took him a full minute until he decided to unlock it and start digging through it, Alec visibly seeing the way the world melted in the man’s eyes as he focused intently on breaking the encryption. And while this was a horrible habit for the field and Alec was thankful for all the times Q went out and returned in one piece and unharmed, it was perfect for tricking the man into eating something.

 

Or so he thought. The second he brought a piece of meat close Q’s mouth, the phone fell in his lap and green eyes filled with anger focused on him. “I am not going to eat anything, so drop it,” he said between gritted teeth. “Now step off and let me work.”

 

Alec flashed him a guilty smile and started to eat as noisily as he could, licking his fingers when Q glanced at him. “We have a five start chef working for us.” Q hummed and typed faster, frowning. “And the fridge is still full of all sorts of cakes and Chinese food that the man made for you at James’ suggestion. It would be a pity if I were to—”

 

“Shush,” Q said suddenly, pushing his hand against Alec’s mouth, the screen going black and then suddenly lighting up. “I unlocked the video file.”

 

Alec was pleased to see that his hunch had been right and that it was indeed M staring at them from the phone’s screen. “ _I am going to assume that Bond found out about his brother and the two hurricanes united,_ ” the woman said slowly, sighing and massaging her temples. “ _I will also assume that Bond’s not so subtle fixation with the young Boothroyd who, at the time I did this, has been the Quartermaster for little over two weeks, has ended with him getting dragged in everything._ ”

 

“The old hag knew everything,” Alec muttered, getting shushed again by Q and the plate stolen from his lap, the chicken disappearing almost instantly. “Q, you’ll get sick; eat slower.”

 

But Q didn’t hear a thing, much too busy paying attention to his departed boss explaining what Alec’s mission was. “ _That is all I had to say, Q. If something else happened and by that I mean if Bond did something stupid and this is Alec trying to help him patch things up, I am going to remind you all that I am your **boss** , not your bloody matchmaker.”_ As if James or he ever thought she’d do that. But at least she had been kind enough to ensure that their Q never saw them as actual traitors. “ _Q, think really hard and don’t endanger yourself too much.”_

 

The screen went blank and Alec sat still as Q hugged the phone, sighing. “Deep down inside, I _James_ would never do this to me.” He let out a shaky breath and Alec cleared his throat, distracting him from the possible cry that followed by acting offended. “006, I must apologize for assuming that you were a traitor as well. However...” If there wasn’t a ‘but’, there was always a ‘however’. “That was the only logical conclusion I could have reached.”

 

Alec leaned over and ruffled his hair, pushing a bowl with a bit of soup in his arms and taking away his phone. “Well, I can’t say I was 100% surprised, as the two of us never met face to face before today. James, however...” He trailed off and Q pulled a face before hiding his face in his hands.

 

“He’s always been unpredictable. I thought he had lost his mind, especially since he had went on an unauthorized mission on his downtime, after stealing a prototype gun from me,” Q mumbled after a moment of silence. “I’ll get over the car that I am now paying out of my own pocket and I understand that he _couldn’t_ have told me that he was alive through technological means, but a bloody postcard...” Q was getting frustrated, but he was too tired to explode. “He never listened to me before, so why when I told him not to send me one, he actually listened?”

 

Now Alec understood why James had two drawers chuck full of postcards and letters. “He was afraid of—” He stopped when Q suddenly slumped against his shoulder, the light snore that followed not allowing panic to settle in. “Well, he’ll explain later, after you wake up.”

 

He tried to move, but the cat let a low hiss, lifting one paw as if he was telling Alec that if he dared to change the position of his living bed even a tiny bit, it would sink those sharp claws of in the sleeping man’s tight.

 

“If you do that and Q bleeds, I guarantee you that James will really turn you into a fur coat,” Alec hissed and the cat hissed back, almost spitting him. “You bloody bastard, I can’t wait for you to turn twelve and die. I’ll personally mount you on the bloody wall.”

 

Alec texted James, not managing to send a proper text due to the low growl the cat made when he had tried to use his other hand which resulted in a panicked and armed to the teeth James almost breaking down the door to the garden, startling Q awake.

 

“Are you okay?” James asked Q, picking the cat up by the scruff of his neck and pushing it against Alec’s chest, taking his place by Q’s side and starting to pat the man down, checking to see if he had any new wounds. “You feel cold. Do you have a fever? Alec, I think he has a fever, go get the doctor.”

 

Q covered James’ mouth and struggled to get up, using him as a crutch. “I have no idea what’s going on right now,” he murmured, eyes closing again, “and I am too tired to even attempt to make sense of whatever you said, Bond.” He nodded his thanks to the wounded Alec – because that cat had it in for him – for giving him his actual crutch and then caressed James’ face, eyes soft. “We’ll talk when I wake up, okay?” For the first time in three days, James truly looked alive. “Come little darling, let’s sleep.” He took the cat from Alec’s arms and both men were ready to swear on their lives that the creature stuck his tongue out at them.

 

“Great, now that bastard has another one on his side,” Alec groaned as he fell on the bed, James on top of him. “That thing will bury all of us.”

 

James grabbed a fistful of his hair and kissed him, silencing him. “Q has two more cats,” he whispered against Alec’s lips, “and he’ll want them here, if he decides to live here, with us.”

 

Alec growled and rolled on his side, pulling his pillow over his head. He survived explosions and bullets, knives and poisons, but he wasn’t sure he was going to be able to survive _three_ cats. But for James, he’ll try his best, especially since Q was as beautiful as he was smart and truth be told, he had developed a crush – yes, at his age he got one of those – since the first time he had heard the soft, posh voice.   


	12. Not what was expected

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darling cherrygoldlove asked for this one and I was more than happy to write it :)
> 
> I hope you all enjoy it and please excuse the mistakes.
> 
> (I'll do a 'sequel month' when I am done with the prompts and you will get to decide which fic from the list I'll have on my tumblr gets a sequel)

Though they didn’t have much when they grew up, they still had each other and their special talents. Q was a computer genius and Vesper a mathematical goddess while their parents were poor and had a soft spot for ridiculous names that brought on even more misfortune on their offspring. The again their parents were both writers, who lived in their own worlds and who didn’t have a real grasp on reality, so their children never blamed them for anything.

 

To say that their childhood wasn’t a happy one was an understatement. They didn’t exactly go to bed hungry, but they never ate so much that they felt like they were exploding and their mother cried almost every night, the thin walls in their small apartment doing absolutely nothing to muffle her sobs.

 

“I failed our children,” she would say every night and her husband would hug her tight, letting out shaky breaths.

 

“We’re doing our best and they understand,” he tried to reassure her but all that did was to make her cry harder.

 

Of course they were picked on in school because they were poor and children were cruel like that, mocking them for wearing second-hand clothes and eating nothing but bread with the thinnest layer of butter and just a pinch of salt and that they had the cheapest backpacks and school supplies ever.

 

Most of their peers didn’t want to sit with them, often yelling that they were going to ‘catch the poor’ from them and run away and heaven forbid Q or Vesper scratched their heads because they would instantly find themselves in the nurse’s office, getting inspected for lice – because it was an unwritten law that if you were poor, you had to have lice or fleas or both.

 

It didn’t help that Q liked to invent things so he was often seen digging through trash, looking for whatever component he needed. He never smelled and he took showers – cold as they were – after each dip in the trash, but the children still acted as if he smelled bad and if it was rainy and his sister wasn’t near him, they would throw mud at him to ‘help him feel comfortable’.

 

They also tried to physically bully them and Q was unfortunate enough to have a fast metabolism and to also look like he was the younger sibling, but the children quickly learned that Vesper had a hard punch and was quick on her feet and that Q’s inventions actually worked and stung.

 

“You’re a freak and I am telling mother that you tried to blow my head off,” and eight grader said between tears to a Q who was in the fifth grade.

 

“Do that and I’ll tell her that you tried to shave my head and then go to the headmaster and show him how you cheated on all your tests so far,” Q warned, looking smugly at him. “And I didn’t try to blow your head off. I just gave you a mild shock and you panicked and pissed your pants.”

 

It was their brains that paid for their higher education, not their parents who did their best – but not enough – or the government supported program that boasted the fact that they could help needy families and it was their brains again that bought them each a proper apartment and the little house at the edge of London that their parents dreamed of – and that helped more than Vesper and Q ever thought because not a month later, their mother published her first children’s book and their father managed to land a nice contract as a ghost writer.

 

But the difference between what Vesper and Q ended up doing with their lives was the law. If Vesper landed herself a nice job at Her Majesty’s Treasury and quickly rose through its ranks, Q was a world renowned – and wanted – hacker who also daubed in the world of inventors if the pay was right.

 

Vesper was not happy about Q’s life choices and she made damned sure to do her best to bring him on the right path every time they met. “I bet Microsoft would pay you a fortune if you went to them with your patents, Q,” she ‘subtly’ snuck in their conversation about the latest man she thought herself to be in love with.

 

“You know I work on my own terms and at my own hours. I cannot and I will not work with a leash around my neck,” grumbled Q in his cup of expensive tea, sullen and annoyed that this was the millionth time he was having this conversation.

 

“But Q, it will be—”

 

“Drop it, Vesper; you know there isn’t anything that you can do to change my mind,” Q interrupted her, tapping the table. “Now finish telling me about this loser of yours.”

 

She frowned and gently tugged on a strand of his wild brown hair, clicking her tongue. “Don’t be mean, Q. He’s sweet and caring and always brings me flowers.”

 

Q snorted, batting her hand away. “Not to mock your taste in men, but seeing that your last knight in shining armour that brought you flowers turned out to be a conman…” He trailed off and squeezed her shoulder, regretting his words when he saw how hurt she was. “I’m sorry; I am sure that this one is different and that your love for each other is true,” he lied through his teeth and Vesper pretended to believe him. “So, when do I get to meet him?”

 

“Soon,” Vesper promised, hugging Q.

 

But that soon never came and Vesper threw herself into her work, calling Q two months later to inform him that she had been partnered up with an MI6 field agent – which were called double ohs, much to Q’s confusion – and that she would be out of the country until their mission was completed.

 

“I don’t like the way that sounds,” Q grumbled into the phone, fingers already flying over the keyboard, pulling up the MI6 site, deciding to turn it into the front door to their so called secure servers.

 

“ _Get off that laptop this instant_ ,” Vesper hissed at him in an actual cold voice for the first time in her life. “ _And keep your nose out of this, understand?”_ Q was still shocked to really say anything so he nodded, another hiss from Vesper startling him into yelping his promise over the phone. “ _It is for your own good,”_ she added after a sigh, voice softer. “ _I am sorry Q, but please wait for this to be over and I promise that I will explain everything._ ”

 

Q managed to suppress his temptation by busying himself with other projects, jumping every time his phone rang, afraid that he would get bad news. The first time Vesper called him, she was annoyed with the agent she was working with, calling him a horny old man who needs to have his pants stapled to his legs – and Q offered to do that for her, if only she’ll tell him where she is.

 

“ _It involves a plane and the bloody bastard would offer a threesome, I am sure_ ,” Vesper said quickly and Q narrowed his eyes because every time she played the plane card on him, she was trying to keep something away from him.

 

“Vesper, I hope you know that for you I can ignore my fear of flying and if your agent dares—”

 

“ _And I hope you know that I can take care of myself,”_ she interrupted him. “ _I am not some sort of damsel in distress,”_ she didn’t sound too convinced of that and it scared Q a little, “ _and the man is a glass of wine to the face from understanding that his advances are really not wanted and that what I am doing is not a ‘hard to get’ scheme._ ”

 

In Q’s honest opinion, a man or woman were supposed to understand that from the get go and cease their unwanted advances immediately. But then again, Q had a working brain while most of the world allowed for theirs to be constantly washed by whatever silly movies in which the hero gets the girl even if she was hissing at him on TV.

 

However, there was a slight possibility – and by slight, he meant big – that Q’s fixation with protecting his sister even though he knew she could take care of herself was also a result of reading and watching things in which the woman was defenceless. So he bit his lip, slapped his hands, and kept away from the MI6 servers, impatiently waiting for the next call.

 

This time, his sister didn’t sound so sure in her annoyance with the agent, the man even finally getting his name uttered twice – Bond. He wasn’t a complete bastard this time and it seemed that his horniness had dimmed down enough to be just playful teasing. Q held back from asking Vesper what had happened with her feelings towards the previous knight in shining armour that had swept her off her feet.

 

By the third call, Vesper was clearly in love with the man – now James – and she had only words of praise of how kind, thoughtful, and caring he was. He was now a romantic with a unique sense of humour, who made her heart jump out of her chest whenever he took her hand in his.

 

After that, he started to get postcards from Europe, the second one together with a letter not in his sister’s handwriting and clearly a photocopy in which James – agent code 007 – was presenting his boss – someone named M and Q was tempted to shake his head at the codename if only his real name wasn’t that simple letter – with his official resignation, as per their conversation over the phone.

 

The next visit from the mailman brought him a picture of the happy couple and he finally started to like the man a little, if only because his sister had never looked as happy as she did in the picture. James hand his hand tightly wrapped around her middle and he was kissing her knuckles, his blue eyes made bluer still by his swimsuit – and damn it his sister didn’t have an eye for the good-looking ones, Q thinking that if he was a different kind of man and Vesper wasn’t his sister or a friend, he would gladly accept the man’s hypothetical threesome proposal.

 

That was the last time he received good or happy news. He got a call in the middle of the night, that call that everyone dreads. A soft woman’s voice regrettably informed him that his sister had been caught in a terrorist attack that took place in Venice and drowned. She was the only casualty, the voice continued to inform him, and the England government was more than willing to pay for the body to be brought back into the country and buried.

 

“How strange,” Q said slowly, more awake than he wanted to be, connecting his phone to his laptop and turning on the improved tracking program he had made, “that it was only my sister who died in this attack,”

 

“ _She was in an abandoned building,_ ” the woman said slowly, her voice heavy with perfectly acted grief. “ _We don’t know what she was doing there, but it was a well known fact that tourists sometimes snuck in that building, hoping to get little trinkets to bring back home.”_

 

His sister had never been interested in ‘little trinkets’ especially if it involved practically stealing them because of all the times both of them had been wrongfully accused of absconding things when they were young. “And the terrorists decided to blow up a building that was empty? I always thought that their kind would be more interested in heavily populated areas.” He had already found from where the call was being made, not shocked at all but hurt beyond belief that he had been right in thinking MI6 was to blame for this.

 

Of all the other times he had been right – and that meant constantly – why couldn’t this time be that one when he had been wrong? Why couldn’t this have been that clichéd instance that got him to change his ways and prove to him that his instinct could be faulty? And why did his sister have to die? Why did she have to lose her life like he had feared? Wasn’t MI6 supposed to protect the innocent? Wasn’t his sister innocent?

 

 “ _Mister Lynd, are you still with me?”_ The woman asked and Q shook his head, wiping his tears from his eyes and letting out a shaky breath.

 

“Sadly, yes,” he said dejectedly, another sob escaping his lips before he could stop himself. “She was on vacation with her lover. Was he with her? Is he alright?” Did he have the decency to get at least a scratch when he tried to save her, if he even did that?

 

The woman was silent for a second and by now Q was already in their inner CCTV, selecting the camera that was getting the fee from the office from which the call was being made and she saw her run a hand through her hair and biting her lower lip, looking over a tablet. “ _Our records show that she was alone in there and when we called the hotel she was staying at, we were told that she had checked in alone, in a singles room._ ”

 

Q felt himself become filled with anger, especially since he was looking over the report himself and the room she had been with was the honeymoon suite and it clearly said on the screen that it had been reserved for Miss Lynd and Mister Bond. “I see,” he said slowly, sure that he sounded like a snake. “I will begin the...” His neck suddenly became dry and tears rolled down his face, unable to say that he was going to prepare for her funeral.

 

He threw the phone against the wall when the woman asked if he was okay or if he needed any help and he instantly, curling under his duvet and crying his eyes out for the next two hours. He only stopped because he was thirsty and there were no tears left for him to spill and he was curious to see what had really happened.

 

MI6’s so called firewall was as if it wasn’t there. It didn’t take him more than five minutes to access the files they had on the double oh agents and he avidly read every word they had on James Bond, his anger getting only increasing. The man was Casanova reborn, except the trail he left behind him was also made out of bodies, not just broke hearts. But what hurt the most and helped him decide to get revenge was the last phone conversation they had on file with the agent.

 

“ _The bitch is dead_ ,” the man had said in a cold voice and if he was standing in front of Q right then, he would have been missing all of his teeth and tongue.

 

How dare he call his sister that? How dare he kill his sister, call her a bitch and not feel even a bit of remorse after pronouncing her dead to the world? He played that part over and over again, the day giving way to night and then to the middle of next week, Q surrounded in empty boxes of Chinese food and scrunched up napkins. The only good thing that came out of that was that he had become an expert in Bond and that was all that mattered to him because revenge would be easy to get and that he had a plan.

 

But before he could get to that plan he had to go through Vesper’s funeral, something he never wished to do while his parents were still alive. Actually, in the perfect world he had created around himself and his sister, they both would have died somewhere around a hundred years old, surrounded by the people they loved and in the manors they built.

 

He sat in the back, surveying the proceeding, numb and cold, and his parents’ sobs sounding ten times louder than they already were. His tears had all dried up and all he could think was that Bond didn’t even had the decency to come and apologize for whatever he had done, the man’s words stuck in his mind like an unwanted and hated earworm.

 

“ _The bitch is dead._ ”

 

And Q would make sure that the bastard who killed her would soon follow.

 

***

 

Of course his carefully made plan which caused his mother and father even more grief because he had to stage his own death and erase every trace of himself online, ended being completely ruined the second he found himself in charge of people. Of people that weren’t Bond. Of people that actually did their best to keep the country, their friends, their family, and their lovers alive, so Q couldn’t pull himself from his computer to start fucking with Bond’s missions – not that it seemed like he needed to do that, since the man was a horrible agent.

 

He had died so many times and Q had opened so many champagne bottles to toast Bond’s apparent departure from the world of the living that he had become immune to all alcohol to the point that he managed to drink 009 under the table – and the next day that followed, everyone applauded him for it and the agent presented him with two kilos of his favourite brand of tea.

 

Then Istanbul happened and just as Q had finally found where Bond was hiding – because he knew better by now than to open another bottle of champagne and celebrate his death before seeing the actual body and getting a DNA test from it, what with the bloody man scientists that ran around – disaster struck in the form of another revenge fuelled bastard and the position of Quartermaster was forced on him.

 

Was he surprised that M decided to trust Bond with this mission? No; the woman trusted the man more than he should and though it pained Q to admit, he had his moments in which the proper agent he was supposed to be shined through the mass of pure stupidity, smugness, horniness, crassness, and all the other horrible habits that ended in ‘-ness’.

 

He had been tempted to compromise the mission. Send Bond with a wrongly programmed gun and give the man a strong enough shock to kill him where he stood, but the problem was that he liked M and he wanted revenge for the deaths his friends and his teacher – it really wasn’t that he had cared more for them than he had Vesper, but he could take Silva down first and then kill Bond.

 

Cold anger washed over him when he saw the agent sitting in the museum that his sister had loved so much, breathing air that he didn’t deserve. He opened the little box that held Bond’s gadgets and took out the radio, thinking about switching it with the one that was an explosive, but abandoned that idea because he couldn’t kill innocent people in something that could be considered a terrorist attack or ruin the paintings in front of which he had spent countless hours together with her.

 

“It always makes me feel a bit of melancholy,” he said as he sat down next to Bond, feeling repulsion from the bottom of his heart. The melancholy he felt came from the fact that this was the first painting he and Vesper had really looked at and loved, their parents writing a cute story just for them. “Grand old war ship,” Bond, “being ignominiously hauled away to scrap.” Which was just like he wanted to do to Bond. “The inevitability of time, don’t you think?” A reminder for himself to remain patient and not just blow the man’s brains away. “What do you see?”

 

What he really wanted to ask Bond if he could see his future, if he realized that his time was ending and if he could somehow tell that Q was going to be the one who would do the hauling of his lifeless body.

 

Of course he didn’t. “A bloody big ship. Excuse me,” James said and sat up getting ready to stomp out like an annoyed child who had been tricked into going to the doctor’s office.

 

“007, I’m your new Quartermaster,” Q said quickly and the man stopped in his track, did a double take and sat back down.

 

“You must be joking,” said the bastard and Q felt himself managing to get even more annoyed, tensing up and reading himself to slap him.

 

“Why? Because I’m not wearing a lab coat?” The man was the type to judge a book by his covers and Q felt like he needed to apologize to all humans for calling Bond one.

 

“Because you still have spots,” Bond declared and Q thought he saw worry flash in his eyes, but even if it wasn’t just a simple trick of the light, he was sure that the only worry the agent could feel was for his own life, scared that someone who didn’t need a cane to walk around and three pairs of glasses to read was in charge of his life.

 

“My complexion is hardly relevant.” Perfect complexion, he might add, as both himself and Vesper being blessed with the type of skin which remained pure and soft, despite the weather or raging hormones.

 

“Your competence is.”

 

Did the fucking bastard really forget that he was the idiot who was dying every other mission and whose bones creaked when he sat back down next to him? Although the sound Q heard might have been the chair. “Age is no guarantee of efficiency.”

 

“And youth is no guarantee of innovation.”

 

If Bond knew how many of the things he destroyed had come to life from the blueprints he had spent hours being hunched over, he’d eat his own words and swallow the foot he’d put in his mouth. “Well, I’ll hazard I can do more damage on my laptop sitting in my pyjamas before my first cup of Earl Grey than you can do in a year in the field.” And he had done just that right before getting recruited by MI6, bringing down an entire organization that provided weapons and information from within governments.

 

“Oh, so why do you need me?”

 

Because in order to keep his Quartermaster position, he had t pretend not to have anything against a man he had never met face to face and because M was in danger and he cared for her and he wasn’t a field agent, while Silva was. “Every now and then a trigger has to be pulled.”

 

“Or not to be pulled. It’s hard to know which in your pyjamas. Q.” He smiled because in that empty head of his he thought that a bridge was created between them – the smile was also annoyingly pleasant and calming, something that a killer shouldn’t have. Damn him, damn him again and then damn him a third time.

 

He remembered to give James the right radio just in time and then put up with his complaints about how basic everything was – not Q’s fault and not his intent, being that MI6 was still in tatters and his branch was almost completely destroyed – and off the bastard went, to destroy more lives while trying to save one.

 

To his surprise, Silva was caught and then much to his embarrassment, the man used one of his babies to trick him into letting him go free – again, not his intention because he had killed the people he cared for – and Bond was quick to give chase, Q _almost_ letting him be ran over by a train because the door he was trying to open was locked with a code. But he didn’t because Silva was still alive and free.

 

That lead to Bond asking him for a favour and while his original plan involved having the man under his thumb and leashed, he did not like the fact that he would honestly have to team up with the bastard. “I’m guessing that this is not official,” he said slowly, taking a sip from the mug Vesper had gifted him with.

 

“ _Not even remotely_ ,” came the reply and Q sighed because as much as he hated Bond and as much as he wanted to see him in that cold ground filled with the creatures that ate his beautiful sister, he didn’t have a choice but to do his best.

 

“So much for my promising career in espionage.” He had practiced this line in front of a mirror many times before, wanting to deliver it to Bond when he let him die, seconds before getting taken down from his station. But alas, M was important, his friends were dead, Bond was honestly doing his best and Vesper had always wanted him on the side of the angels.

 

Was he surprised that M did not walk away from this mission? No. Did he feel pain and genuine sadness when that happened? Yes. Could he blame Bond for not doing all that he could to keep the woman alive? Fucking no and that pissed the hell out of him. The man had tried his best, they both had worked on the bloody plan together and had been synchronized down to their breathing, but M’s own plan had been better than theirs and she had her way.

 

At her funeral – and how strange that it was in the same cemetery as Vesper and he suddenly remembered that he had been tricked into burying his sister in here – James insisting on sitting right next to him, going so far as to walk after him when Q tried to get away from him.

 

 “You don’t like me,” said Bond softly as he trailed after him once the funeral was over.

 

Q rolled his eyes, shoving his hands in his pockets and shivering. He wanted to visit his sister’s grave, but with the tail he had on him, he was forced to go back to the car. “Sherlock Holmes’ deductions pale compared to yours, oh great detective Bond. I can see why you are such a good agent and why you always know where your enemies are without the help of anyone,” he mocked, glaring at the driver of his car for not slamming the door shut after he got in, instead going that after the agent also got in the car.

 

Bond sketched a grin and then his eyes filled with something strange, shoulders slumping. “You blame me for her death,” Bond said softly, hand hovering awkwardly over Q’s shoulder for a few moments.

 

“Yes,” Q half-lied, turning his head to look out the window at the gray sky. He blamed him for Vesper’s death, not for M’s. “And I am also not in the mood to talk about that, so driver—”

 

“Drink with me?” Bond rudely interrupted, digging through the car’s mini-fridge for some alcohol. “I promise to take good care of you if anything happens.”

 

Had he promised Vesper that? “I don’t get drunk as easily as you think I do and I only drink on special occasions,” he sneered and tried to pull even further away from the man, looking at him with clear irritation when he pushed a glass of scotch in his hands.

 

“I have heard of you, boffin who drank 009 under the table just because he could and then ended up in Medical because Tanner freaked at how much you were vomiting.” Bond grinned and winked at him, drowning his glass in one smooth move. “But I am not 009. You’ll be long drunk even before I start to feel some semblance of a buzz and don’t tell me that you drink only when you are happy because, again, I am not 009 and I know better.”

 

Scowling, Q also drowned his glass and Bond was quick to refill it, pushing closer to him. They continued to drink until the car stopped in front of a really fancy bar and Bond quickly ushered Q in it, the owner himself continuing to serve them alcohol.

 

They didn’t say anything to each other, just drank in silence, Bond looking lost and defenceless enough to kill, but Q couldn’t bring himself to spill blood over M’s freshly dug grave. Oh and he also didn’t have an actual weapon with him. Yes, now that he thought more about it, he liked the latter excuse more.

 

“Don’t think about it,” James breathed out suddenly, large hand on his shoulder. “There was nothing you could have done.”

 

“I know that, but there was so much more that you could,” Q accused and shrugged Bond’s hand away. “But you never do,” he continued and sat up suddenly, regretting it the second the world started to spin out of focus. “And if you’ll excuse me or not, you are not the person I wish to spend the rest of my time with.”

 

 “Q—”

 

 _“Quartermaster_ ,” Q hissed at him and he hated the fact that if it weren’t for Bond, he would have fallen on his ass. “I am your Quartermaster and I’ll be damned if I let you kill me first,” he finished dramatically, leaning over to take his glass and empty it.

 

“The bitch is dead and—”

 

The world turned red and a second later, his hand was stinging and the right side of Bond’s face was read. Q was aware that the man could kill him to a single move so he flinched and took a step back when Bond moved, quickly pulling his coat on. “Don’t bother me outside of work.” And he ran, hailing a cab and ordering the man to take him back to the cemetery, stopping him first in front of a flower shop where he needed a good thirty minutes to find just the right bouquet of flowers for Vesper.

 

He asked the driver to give him some chewing gum, gave him two hundred quid – alcohol made him much more generous than he should be with some people – and arranged his suit because his sister always scolded him when he didn’t do that.

 

But when he got near the woman’s grave, he heard low muttering and he peeked over a few tombstones, flowers dropping when he saw that James had beaten him to it. The agent was sitting on the ground next to Vesper, a large, fresh bouquet of flowers almost completely covering the ground, a withered one thrown not too far away.

 

“—is dead as well, Vesper,” Bond was saying softly, pulling a small bottle of alcohol from his jacket, pouring a little over Vesper’s grave before taking a sip. “You’re all leaving me because you’re all keeping things from me. If you would have told me...” He let out a shaky breath and Q struggled to get closer without being heard, curious to see what the bastard was doing in this sacred place. “If only you would have trusted me enough to tell me the truth, I wouldn’t be sitting here and if only M would have been more talkative when she should have been, I wouldn’t have seen her being placed in this wretched, cold ground.”

 

Q thought for a moment about going there and ordering Bond away, but something convinced him otherwise so he stumbled over to M’s fresh gave and sat next to it, glasses on the ground, face hidden in the palm of his hands.

 

Confusion and uncertainty where the two things he hated the most and it just so happened that those were what he was currently feeling, hiccupping as he tried to remain silent because he didn’t want Bond to know that he was there.

 

“He killed her and yet...” he murmured, unable to finish his sentence because the sobs became stronger. He killed her and yet he was at her grave and it looked like he had visited vesper a lot more times than he did. Heck, much to his shame, even if Bond was visiting Vesper’s grave for the first time, it was still one more time than he did. “What sort of a brother am I? What am I doing? I wanted to... But I can’t. It’s not something I do and Bond in the field... M, the bastard is doing his best but he killed my Vesper and he dared to call her a bitch. He called _you_ a bitch, but his eyes were so full of determination when it came to protecting you. But he called you a bitch; why would he do that?”

 

Something warm was placed around him and Q almost jumped five graves away, his drunken mind thinking that M had risen from her grave to give him the answers. But it was James who was kneeling in front of him, much more sober than he was, and holding his jacket tightly around Q’s shoulders, keeping him in place.   

 

“That’s how I distanced myself from her,” Bond explained softly, forcing Q to sit down on the ground with him. “I called M a bitch because I can trick myself into thinking that I never cared for her.”

 

Q whispered and struggled not to cry, but the tears were stubborn and many and rolling down his cheeks, their warmness a stark contrast with how cold his face was. “How long have you been there? Don’t you have enough decency to leave a man alone to wallow in despair?”

 

“Long enough to hear,” Q’s breath hitched, afraid that Bond had head everything, “your confusion over my choice of words.” He wrapped his arm around Q’s shoulder and pulled him against his chest when he felt him shiver, giving him the bottle which Q was more than gland to try and empty in one go. “The psychiatrists would build you a statue, Quartermaster, for getting me to say what I just did.”

 

“That you eavesdrop when you shouldn’t?” Q mumbled, pushing closer to the bastard because he was warm while he was cold and drunk.

 

Bond chuckled, rubbing his back. “Admitting that I run away from things, Quartermaster.” He stopped suddenly and pushed Q back, squeezing his shoulders. “You won’t... I’ll take good care of you,” Bond said with just a hint of desperation in his voice. “I won’t let anyone kill you, okay? No matter what grudge they may have against you or if they kidnapped someone you care for, okay? You come to me, tell me and I’ll take care of everything.”

 

Q snorted. He was sure that this was something Bond told everyone right before his missions went tits up and got them killed. “You’ll be the reason I get killed, I am sure.”

 

“I won’t, I promise.” He hugged him again, tighter this time. “I’ll keep you safe and away from this place.”

 

Cemeteries were all over the world and Bond smelled like death. But he was also warm and Q was drunk, cold, and tired. “You’ll kill me, just like you did her.”

 

“I won’t,” Bond insisted and got up, pulling Q after him. “You’re my new Quartermaster and I’ll keep you safe.”

 

***

 

Q’s revenge plans ended up being completely ruined by Bond’s way of being, but he felt like Vesper would be happier for that. So he started to honestly do his job and actually tried a little to bring Bond back as safe as it was possible, never forgiving him when the man came empty handed because he had worked for hours on end to make his gadgets – that didn’t mean he liked the man or that he forgave him, especially since he hadn’t been able to find files with more details about his sister’s death. All he knew was that it happened after Bond had quit and that he returned as a double oh, but only after going on an unofficial mission which ended with lots of damages, a dead agent, and an entire organization dismantled.  

 

“Quartermaster?” Bond’s voice broke through his concentration and Q subtly closed the records, pulling up some random files that were the type one would expect someone in his position to look out with such concentration. “Your frown tells me that you were looking over the expenses of my previous trip.” He leaned over his shoulder and hummed and what did you know, those were the exact files he had up. “Someone is lying to you because there is no way that watch was that expensive.”

 

Q narrowed his eyes and slapped Bond’s hands away, pushing him back with his elbow. The man either had no idea what personal space was or he liked to annoy him and Q had a feeling that it was the former because he never saw the man spreading himself over Miss Moneypenny or anyone else. “It is when I basically turn it into a mini-computer.” The watch had been for 009, but Bond ended up with it because he had the best of luck when it came to gadgets. “I don’t have a meeting scheduled with you, so why are you here.”

 

Bond shrugged, leaning on Q’s desk as he arranged his tie. “Q, do I need to remind you that when you say things like that, it sounds like you don’t like me?”

 

“007, do I need to remind you yet again that I really don’t?” He scowled at him and slapped his hands away. “And leave my tie alone; it’s perfect the way it is.”

 

Bond hummed, hands in pockets. “To be fair, I know something that would make the tie look even better, but I won’t because your brushing your fingers against that device that’s not an actual pen with a bit too much love.”

 

Q held up the pen with pride. “It sends a powerful electroshock if you push it up against someone and twist it, it blows up if you push its cap three times, and you can also get it to shoot a poisoned dart which will instantly knock out your enemy.” He clicked his tongue when Bond took it from his hands and jumped on his back, trying to take it back. “It’s a prototype, Bond!”

 

“I’m just looking at it,” said the man, laughing right before dropping the precious object on the desk and wrapping his arms around Q’s legs, walking out of his office. “But I am happy to see that you decided to accept my invitation to dinner and that you are so eager about it.”

 

Hitting the back of Bond’s neck, Q glared at everyone who dared to look in their direction because this is not the way he wanted to be seen. “Put me down this instant and stop bugging me, 007! You presented me with no such invitation and I have no recollection of agreeing to it.”

 

The man turned his head and their noses almost touched which prompted Q to start thrashing about until he almost fell down and ended up clinging tightly to Bond, face buried in his neck, glasses askew. “Well, if you don’t remember agreeing to it, why would you remember me inviting you?”

 

“Don’t try to play this game with me, 007,” Q hissed. “We both know you are currently abducting me.” An idea crossed his mind and Bond must have felt the idea because he was trying to pull Q in front of him so he could cover his mouth. “He’s kidnapping his Quartermaster!” Q managed to get out right before he found himself on the ground with the agent over him.

 

“I don’t think this is the best place for you two to be doing this,” Eve’s amused voice came from above and Bond froze, giving Q the right opportunity to slip from under him and run to hide behind the dangerous secretary.

 

“He’s trying to kidnap me,” Q accused, pointing a finger from under Eve’s arm. “And I want him sent to Medical this instant and checked over because he has lost his mind if he thinks I’ll go anywhere with him out of my own free will.” His sister had and she had died and although he trusted the man to keep him alive during a mission, he did that only because he was the best damned Quartermaster MI6 ever had and he knew he was useful to the agent and if he died, he died.

 

Eve shook her head and raised her hand to keep Bond from coming near them, turning to face Q and help rearrange his wild hair, glasses, and clothes – and she had a special place in Q’s heart because she reminded him of Vesper. “I am also coming along with you, as will Bill. But something tells me James forgot to mention that.” She turned to glare at the shrugging agent.

 

“Q might be right and I might have simply picked him up before we actually talked,” Bond admitted and leaned over Eve to flash Q a smile. “But you are the one who jumped into my arms.”

 

“I jumped on your back,” Q was quick to correct him, “and only because you were trying to _steal_ my pen.”

 

Eve blinked slowly, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I am sure it wasn’t a normal pen, but I am also sure that James wouldn’t care if that got you attached to him,” she muttered, pushing Q towards the garage before Q could think too much about her words. “But more importantly, will you be joining us?”

 

“Yes,” he said slowly although he still felt like he was being abducted. “However, I am not going to get in his car. The person who gave him his driver’s licence should be arrested for attempted murder on everyone who’s participating in traffic at the same time as Bond.”

 

“They suspended my licence two weeks ago, so Eve is driving us,” said the man as he held the door open for Q, smiling at the glare he was getting. “See anything you like?”

 

Eve intervened before Q could slap him – because this wouldn’t be the first time he did it, although the only time he put hatred behind his slap had been after M’s funeral – and tried to get Bond to sit in front with her. But of course the agent was a slippery eel and before they knew it, he was crowding Q in the back, trying to get him to agree to spend his vacation with him.

 

This happened every time they went together somewhere although every time it did, Bond moved closer to him and Q was wondering how long it will be until the man would ride his lap or the other way.

 

He would give the man enough respect for waiting until some of Q’s anger disappeared as he was sure the agent was astute enough to feel that Q had something against him and their relationship had turned into a very strange friendship, but he really wished Bond would give up and not push it further – because he didn’t want to come to consider the man who had caused his sister’s death his friend.

 

“Why don’t you like me?” Bond asked Q when Tanner stepped outside to take an important call and Eve had ducked inside the bathroom. “And I am honestly asking now,” he added, tapping the back of the phone that Q had started playing with, “because I want to fix whatever it is so we can move on to the next level.”

 

One of Q’s brows arched and he slowly lowered his phone. “Next level? I am pretty sure that the next level is someone’s apartment and I don’t think they’ll be too happy to see a reckless MI6 agent at their door.”

 

Bond snorted like he always did when Q said something that he found to be remotely funny – including when he was honestly told to be careful on the field and return in one piece, with working gadgets – and moved closer to him. “I was thinking—”

 

“Stop the presses! _Bond_ was thinking.” He said drily as he patted his back and squeezed his hand, sympathetic in a mocking way. “Tell me if you have a headache so I can care even less than I already do.”

 

Of course when he tried to pull his hand back, he realized what a huge mistake he did because James didn’t look like he planned on letting him go any time soon. “So that means that you are currently caring, right?” Q rolled his eyes and pushed his chair back, eyeing the fork. “Q, please tell me what I did to you for you to hate me so much?”

 

Q sighed and relaxed, looking like he was about to sit back down. But the second Bond let go of his hand, he reached for the glass of water and threw it in his face. “You killed my sister. And then called her a bitch.” He smacked him for good measure and then casually left the restaurant, ignoring everyone who was calling him.

 

At least now Bond would leave him alone and he would be able to continue not killing the man who killed his sister, but also with not being afraid that he’d befriend him or worse, start falling for him.

 

However, Bond seemed to have a different idea and the bloody bastard broke into Q’s apartment a few hours later, scaring him out of his mind. “What the hell are you doing here?” Q screeched, clutching the baseball tightly in his hands. “Have you really lost your mind?”

 

“Vesper meant more than I wanted anyone to mean to me,” was the reply he got instead and rage filled Q instantly, the man swinging his bat blindly twice before Bond kicked it away. “We were happy together and I even quit MI6 for her.”

 

“Shut up,” Q hissed and charged Bond, vision blurry.

 

Bond easily avoided him, clasping his hands behind his back to keep his instinct to fight back under control. “She didn’t ask me to do that, but after my brazenness and stupidity forced her to be in a position no civilian should ever be, it was clear that if I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her, that was the only path I could take.”

 

“You wandered off that path because you’re alive.” Q tried to attack Bond again and this time his body did connected to the agent’s, but that was all he could do. Bond didn’t budge a single inch and he continued to stand there and take the punches and slaps as if Q was nothing more than a simple mosquito. “She’s dead and you’re alive! She’s sleeping in the ground, her skin ripped to shreds by time and worms while you sleep on warm bed, your skin kissed by countless beautiful women!”

 

Bond finally reached his boiling point and grabbed Q’s arms. But he didn’t break them and he didn’t kick him into a wall; he pulled him into a hug. “She was being blackmailed,” Q’s legs instantly gave out on him, but Bond kept him from falling, “and she tried to kill me—”

 

“You knew I was her brother,” Q whispered, shaking.

 

“Of course I did, Q. I saw you at her funeral.” That was a lie! Bond hadn’t been there. “I saw why she had been reserved in her physical description of you and later on, I saw that she did not exaggerate when she described your genius.”

 

“She talked about me to you?” The second he heard that question, he realized just how stupid it was because he too had talked about her to the few lovers he had. His strength had returned to him and he easily pushed Bond away, seething. “I bet you found that to be so funny, didn’t you?” Bond was shaking his head. “No, no, you did, I know you did. You must have laughed when you saw me struggling to keep my sister’s killer alive and—”

 

“She killed herself!” Bond shouted and Q’s brain stopped once more. “She tried to run away with the money to save me, but I didn’t know and when she realized that she was my only weakness she... gave up and freed me from her love by betraying me. I took care of the people who blackmailed her and you know why I called her a bitch.” He gently lowered Q to the sofa and pushed a glass of water that he got from God knows where – to Q it seemed that he blinked and the world changed – and helped him drink it. “I didn’t laugh when I saw you in MI6; I agonized because I knew you were here to kill me.”

 

Q sat silent for a long time, staring at the empty glass in his hands and Bond patiently waited for him to find his words and his mind, knowing better than to actually touch him. “I wanted to see you dead for such a long time,” Q said eventually, voice barely a whisper. “But you... Why couldn’t you be as heartless and cruel as I thought you to be, you bloody bastard? Killing you would have been...” He trailed off and looked at his hands.

 

Who was he kidding? Even if James had been the bastard he first thought him to be, he wouldn’t have been able to kill him. Not in person and not from behind a computer because even when he guided his agents through their missions and they dispatched enemies left and right, he wasn’t actively telling to kill. He only asked them to survive and not get hurt.

 

“Or is that just an excuse? Did I... How many... My hands are covered in so much—”

 

“No!” James interrupted that thought, his warm hands covering his before Q could finish picturing them covered in blood. “I am here to ensure that they’ll never be, Q. You’re here to keep MI6 protected, make sure we’re above or at least on the same footing or just a step behind our enemies’ technology, ensure that the mission is completed, and keep us safe.” He brought Q’s hands to his lips and kissed the tips of his fingers, pulling him in a hug when he started to cry. “I’ll keep you safe and your hands clean, Q.”

 

“I am not my sister,” Q wailed, whishing that this would turn out to be nothing more than a nightmare. But it wasn’t; it was reality and he was being hugged by his sister’s killer who wasn’t really that. “We’re not interchangeable, you bloody bastard.”

 

“That thought never crossed my mind, Q. You’re your own person and your hair is lighter than hers, your eyes have specks of yellow and brown in them, just like a forest—”

 

“Shut up and get out!” Q didn’t like he was feeling. Q didn’t like the protection he got from being pushed up against Bond. He got up and pulled Bond after him, shoving him towards the door. “Don’t ever talk to me outside of a mission. Don’t even look at me when we don’t have to work together!”

 

Bond tried to grab Q’s hand but when the man recoiled and hissed at him, his shoulders slumped and he lowered his head. “If that is what you wish then that is what I will do, Quartermaster.”

 

The door closed, Q threw the empty glass against it and then drank himself into a nightmare in which his sister was terribly upset with him and drowning.

 

***

 

“007, the plan has changed,” Q said coldly, watching with mild interest how the man’s shoulders tensed and his blue eyes filled with a cocktail of confusion, anger, and fear as they landed on him.

 

“What are you doing here?” Bond demanded after lightly poking Q’s arm and convincing himself that yes, the man was really there and no, he had not yet managed to create that perfect hologram he was working on. “You’re the _Quartermaster_ ; that means you’re supposed to stay safe and sound behind a desk like the boffin you are.”

 

Q pushed his glasses further up his nose, hugging his laptop tighter to his chest. “I am well aware of where I am supposed to be, 007, but the fact is that the plan changed and it has been decided that you need my direct involvement in this.”

 

Bond looked like he was getting ready to get into an argument with Mallory, glaring at his phone for a few seconds and then looking back up at him with confusion and uncertainty. “I will do my best to make sure that you don’t get as much as a scratch while working with me on this,” he promised, locking and unlocking his phone. “I’ll protect you,” he said again and Q rolled his eyes, slumping next to him and opening his laptop, chasing away all his thoughts by concentrating on explaining the new plan.

 

It was a simple one, in theory, but Q knew that things always got complicated while being in the field – and not just because he was dealing with 007. So he wasn’t surprised when he found himself in a situation in which he was thrown over Bond’s shoulder, the unlucky agent trying to outrun the people who were shooting at them.

 

“I’ll kill M,” Bond panted out, hugging Q tighter as he jumped down one floor. “What the hell was he thinking, sending _you_ out here?” A bullet wheezed past them and Bond shot the man in the head without even glancing over his shoulder. “You’re the—”

 

“Bloody Quartermaster, yes I know,” Q interrupted him, trying to sound unaffected despite his voice being a pitch higher than usual. “But can you concentrate that you’re the bloody best we have and get both of us out of here alive and unhurt?”  


As soon as he had finished saying that, a bullet flew past Bond’s shoulder, grazing it and the man almost dropped him. But he continued to run, sighing in relief when his eyes finally landed on his car. He was forced to put Q on the ground to unlock it in the old fashion way – and by that, he meant he was Jimmying it because he had managed to lose the phone on which Q had uploaded the app for the car, his personal phone that had the backup app, the little box that was the backup to the backup and the actually key – and because the locks were resistant, their enemies caught up to them.

 

Q took over trying to unlock the car, task not made easier by his shaking hands, while James placed himself like a shield behind him and started to dispatch enemies left and right. He was being careful with his bullets, but he still ran out of them, so he ordered Q to crawl on the other side of the car, where there were no enemies while he dashed to recover one of their guns.

 

It really did look like they were home free the second Bond’s hand brushed against a new weapon and Q managed to pop open the driver’s door, but the agent’s infamous bad luck struck again and a car filled with new enemies pulled into the parking lot and they started shooting blindly around, Q yelping when a bullet grazed his head and another one pierced his shoulder.

 

Bond was next to him in an instant, pushing him in the car and then getting in himself, growling as he ran over the new enemies, ramming in the side of the car and forcing it up against a wall, turning on the flamethrower. He backed up to try to get the one man that had escaped his rage, abandoning his plan when Q let out a whimper.

 

“Stay with me,” Bond ordered as he gently shook Q, almost smashing into a wall when he took his eyes off the road to look at him. “We’re almost at the hospital and they’ll patch you right up, I promise. And I am not just saying it, see?” He turned up the GPS’ volume.

 

“I know,” Q whimpered, squeezing Bond’s hand. “Just focus on the road because I don’t want to get there in an ambulance and with even more wounds, okay?”

 

“How do you get shot all the time and not be paralyzed with pain?” Q wheezed out, whimpering when he moved a little. “Oh God... I’m bleeding all over the seats and this was my favourite cardigan.” He was starting to feel cold and the pain was dying down and Q was dead sure that this was not a good thing.

 

“I’ll buy you one that looks the same and I’ll pay for the inside of the car to be replaced, so don’t worry.”

 

He must have passed out at one point because when he blinked, he was looking at a ceiling that was much too white for his liking, his eyes instantly tearing up, and his nose was assaulted by the strong smell of disinfectant.

 

“I’m here,” Bond breathed in his ear the second Q tried to move, helping him sit up in bed, fluffing his pillow, raising his bed, and calling the nurse, all at the same time. “The mission was successfully completed, the bullet did not hit anything major so you’ll only have a small scar on your shoulder, and we’re both on forced downtime until you get better and I pass my psychiatric evaluation.”

 

Q frowned, struggling to grab Bond’s hovering hand to keep him by his side. “What did you do?” Bond remained silent and didn’t dare look in his eyes. “James,” Q snapped, finally grabbing his hand and using all his strength to squeeze it lightly – he both loved and hated morphine – which got the tired and regretful blue eyes fully focused on him, “what did you do?”

 

“I might have threatened a few doctors and nurses after they took you away from me, punched the security guards and cops, and I might have also disregarded Mallory’s orders and went back after the organization’s head and beat him to a bloody pulp.” He quickly kissed Q’s fingers and let out a shaky breath, pushing his face against the warm hand. “But he hurt you and I had to hurt him back because I made you a promise and I can’t... No, I _won’t_ lose you. You mean so much to me, even if you don’t want to and you’re the most important person on the planet as far as I am concerned.”

 

The light was playing tricks on Q’s eyes which were not helped by the apparent lack of glasses and morphine that was being pumped into his blood, because he thought he saw a silhouette that looked like his sister hovering over them, its hands rested on top of theirs.

 

“I can’t believe that my sister fell for your sappy lines,” Q whispered and James snorted, kissing his hand again. “But they do grow on you after a while and I would have missed them.” He touched James’ head with his other hand, sighing as he started to caress him. “Good job, agent, especially since you are not hurt.”

 

“But you—”

 

“I am very much alive, so _good job_ , James,” Q insisted, trying to push his hand up against Bond’s mouth. “When can I get out of here? This is the first time I am in this city and I have a list of all the places that I want to visit.”

 

“If our tests are okay and you don’t suddenly develop a fever tonight, you can leave as early as tomorrow,” a stranger that had to be his doctor said. “But since you’ll have to change your bandages very often and keep your arm as still as you can, I’d advise you to stay here and—”

 

“Bond,” he didn’t use his first name because he noticed that it acted like a magic spell and he wanted the man to do this out of his own free will, “will you stay with me here and help me with my bandages?” Q interrupted the doctor and James looked like he had been asked if he wanted all the riches in the world.

 

“I won’t leave your side until you send me away and I’ll do everything you ask me.” James kissed his hand and turned to look at the doctor. “I know how to change bandages, how to clean the wounded area, and how to check the stitches. I’ll help him dress, eat, wash himself, and do whatever else he wants to do.”

 

The doctor glanced at Q to see if he agreed with what was being said. “Well, since my patient agrees to this, then I have no choice but to let him walk out of here tomorrow if there are no complications. I will be back in five minutes to check everything again and make sure that the stitches are doing fine, but call the nurse if you start feeling ill even in the slightest.”

 

They both waited for the door to close behind the doctor before they focused on each other, James fluffing Q’s pillow a little more and rearranging the blanket around Q, clearly trying to buy himself some time. And that was a bit amusing to Q’s morphine fogged mind, because this was the first time he saw the man trying to avoid a direct confrontation.

 

But Q felt that sleep was near once more and he wanted to get it out of their way. “I want to do this out of your own free will and not because you feel guilty that I got wounded or because I remind you of my sister.”

 

“You’re Q, not Vesper,” James said softly, risking a peck on Q’s good temple. But Q let him do that and his eyes even fluttered closed. “And you are the one who has what is left of my heart now, not your sister. I am doing this because I want to and I thought that was clear from the many times I practically forced my presence on you.”

 

“You were sure I wanted to kill you, so you were—”

 

“You did want me dead,” James corrected him, “but don’t think for a single second that I was trying to get in your soul because of that or because I knew you are Vesper’s brother. I was doing it because I like you and because I am interested in you. Understand?”

 

Q’s answer came in the form of a head tilt which invited James to peck it again. And James gladly did that, instantly starting to list all the restaurants that had just the type of food Q would love and all the secret places that no normal tourists knew about. Q fell asleep somewhere after the little shop with handmade clothes that James was sure he would like and woke up during the night to the man asleep on three chairs, hand tightly clutching his and Vesper kindly looking over them.

 

“Is this okay? Is it okay if I believe him and if I fall for him?” Q mumbled, afraid that the kindness in her eyes would turn to rage and that she would point an accusing finger at him right before denouncing him as her brother.  

 

But the kindness stayed in her eyes. “ _That’s perfect_ ,” her lips seemed to form, disappearing the second James startled awake, jumping to cover as much as he could, his free hand reaching inside his – empty – breast pocket, angrily looking around the room.

 

“Who’s here?” He grumbled, trying to shake the sleep out of his head.

 

“Just our dreams and memories, James, relax,” Q whispered, squeezing his hand. “Who did you bully into letting you spend the night as I am sure that visiting hours are long over.”

 

James yawned and relaxed, falling back down on his bed made out of chairs. “Bribed, not bullied. Are you okay?” Q nodded. “Does anything hurt?” Q shook his head and James smiled a bit, instantly falling back to sleep.

 

“I hope you never truly sleep like the dead,” Q whispered in his ear and pecked his temple, thinking for a moment that he felt Vesper’s touch in his hair.

 


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize to sweet Elenduen for taking this long and for not quite doing everything they requested. Still, I hope you enjoy it~

After 007 had took down a conspiracy theorist’s wet-dream and left him staring at the rising sun, Q thought that things in the world that most people knew nothing about would settle down. He also foolishly thought that MI6 would bounce right back up as it usually did after such a large scale operation and Mallory would get his title back and he’d get to tinker away until his heart stopped hurting.

 

He had never been more wrong about something in his entire life and Eve couldn’t even look him in the eye. “I… _We_ tried to stop them,” she murmured, choking back a sob. “They promised that it will only be for a short period of time,” she continued to hiccup, her image of an ice-cold iron woman that could rival the former M long gone. “We tried to get them to listen to reason and understand—”

 

He really couldn’t take hearing the sadness and desperation. “ _I_ understand, Miss Moneypenny,” he cut her off, voice hollow, arms numb and cold as the guards gave him apologetic looks as they cuffed him – yeah, like they feeling sorry for him would do him any good behind bars in the new version of The Tower. “For Queen and Country, right?”

 

She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tightly, Tanner growling at the guards that tried to push them away when they took too long and, with a squeeze of his shoulder from a defeated and very tired looking Mallory – you had been a good M for the period of time they had allowed you to be, Q assured him – he was escorted out of what used to be his domain, his once upon minions sobbing and a few even trying to help him to assist him escape.

 

“You’ll make things worse, so please stop,” Q said softly, refusing to jump in the boat that 009 – I regret not being able to give you more worthy gadgets and allowing 007 to steal so many from you without even trying to force him to apologize – had commandeered for him as he had been the closest agent to answer his minions’ calls for help.

 

So his minions backed down, his police escort opted to pretend like nothing happened, 009 went to go through a few boxes of ammunition at his request, and he said goodbye to a sky that wasn’t behind bars, good times, good friends, his desk, and good tea.

 

“I’ll take care of your cats as if they were my children!” Yelled Eve after her and if he could love her more than a friend and a sister, Q would have asked her right then and there to marry him for how kind and caring she was.

 

He wasn’t forced to share his cell with anyone and Q was more than thankful for that. Then again, he was still a genius that had created the MI6 security frame around the internal servers and the morons who decided to turn him into a scapegoat had enough of a brain to figure that though Q would not willingly betray them, there was only so much annoyance – not pain or torture at this point, mind you - before giving up this or that code that might cripple them for a bit.

 

But he was still in a cell, still looked at by the guards as almost the lowest piece of garbage for what he had supposedly done, and he still felt numb and had a hard time falling asleep at night. He didn’t care for the food, which he always ate after everyone was done. He was thankful that he was allowed to bathe alone as tales of prison were deeply embedded in his mind and he wasn’t particularly curious to see if they were exaggerations or reality. He wished they’d let him go out in a slightly bigger cage, but he understood by the way the others looked at him as they cracked their knuckles why it had to be the way it was.

 

He refused to see anyone, no matter how much the constantly changing guards said that his visitors begged and pleaded because he was nothing but a shell of his former self and he was sure he’d give in and start crying if anyone saw him like this.

 

What made life just a bit more bearable was the books. They took away his computer – of course – they confiscated absolutely everything he put on paper – be it unaddressed love letter or blueprint for this or that gadget he regretted no building for his former agents – but they let him have as many books as he wanted.

 

And so he read about string theory and read about pirates and cowboys and wizards and parallel dimensions and tried to block out his current predicament since the promised maximum five months of detention had ended six months ago, confirming what he had suspected the second he saw the decree.

 

“As it happened,” the new guard with green eyes that made Q miss the forest back in his hometown even more and a scar that painted the portrait of a lucky man that cheated death said as he broke bread with him in the empty cantina. “I was surprised to find myself appointed to guarding someone as _innocent_ looking as yourself.” He leaned closer to him for some reason, but Q paid him no attention. “If anyone walked in right now, they would wonder why such a dangerous looking prisoner has a guard as skinny as you.”

 

Q stopped chewing the bland food for a moment and really looked at his guard, noticing the scar he had on his face and the experienced eyes – green and pretty, but almost as hollow as a double oh agent who had just returned from a mission. “Except I am the one wearing orange and you are the one wearing the guard uniform.”

 

His guard hummed and tapped his scarred side of the face. “I do not look good in orange and neither do you right now. However, I also don’t think the blandness of my own uniform would fit you any better. I see you in something that looked like the rainbow puked out.”

 

Q ignored him completely for the rest of that supposed morning, wondering for how long this personal guard would last. He seemed to be friendlier than the others in a way that didn’t set off any kinds of alarms in his mind and Q secretly hoped that the man would attempt to have a conversation with him again.

 

“I’m Alec, by the way,” his guard said not thirty minutes later when Q was taken into the courtyard, offering him his hand.

 

Q stared at it for a good minute before he remembered what he was supposed to do and clasped it weakly, almost rolling his eyes in pleasure at the simple human contact. “I don’t really need to introduce myself, do I? It would be quite stupid of them to throw you in the metaphorical lion’s den without informing you first.”

 

Alec chuckled, his eyes shimmering with amusement. “You are, by far, the most harmless-looking lion that I have ever met.” Q frowned and moved to free his hand, insulted beyond all belief and wishing he had a laptop so he could show this man just how _harmless_ he was, but Alec did not release him and squeezed his hand until Q turned to look at him. “I’ve heard of the great and scary things you can do without even trying, which is why I said ‘look’ instead of ‘are’.”        

 

Q frowned even more, now a bit weirded out that no alarms were going off and that the guard was this friendly even though he supposedly knew about his treacherous ways – and how fickle the human mind was; relaxed and enjoying itself one second, and then tensed and full of horrible thoughts that were deeply anchored in your brain.

 

“What do you want from me?” He asked directly, tapping his foot. “I won’t do it, so forget it,” he said before Alec even opened his mouth, turning with his back to him. If he were back in his office, he would have sent the man away – then again, if he were back in his office, he wouldn’t have met him.

 

“You won’t introduce yourself?” He smirked when Q shot him a glare, sliding back in his field of vision. “Because that is what I am asking you for, unless you want me to call you prisoner number,” he tugged on Q’s shirt and tried stifled a chuckle, “007006.”

 

Q swatted Alec’s hands away and tried to scot even more away from him, only to be stopped by the man before he fell off the bench. “Since you insist on treating me like a human and not like that which they have painted me as, you can call me Q,” he said softly, nodding his thanks and keeping his cool as he was easily dragged back to the middle of the bench.

 

Regret and anger shone in his guard’s eyes, but the moment was ruined before Q could ask anything by a riot suddenly starting behind him. He was easily picked up and rushed back to his cell, Alec ordering him to get under the bed and stay there until everything calm down while he cocked his gun and placed himself in front of the door, looking more than eager to be challenged.

 

Of course, Q was never one to follow instructions to the bone – something he had picked up from his agents – so he was longing on his bed, studying Alec. “You’re former military,” he said, not asked, recognizing the stiff position that Bond adopted in situations that required him to be an honest to god agent and not his usual lady-killer self.

 

“Proud lieutenant of the Suhoputnye voyska Rossiyskoy Federatsii,” he muttered, turning with the clear intention of smiling at him, only to end up frowning when he saw him sitting out in the open. “I am very sure I told you to hide under the bed, not lounge on it as if you were a king waiting for grapes to be fed to you.”

 

Q listened to the commotion caused by the riot and shrugged. “They are moving away from us, _Leytenánt_ ,” a surprised glance sent his way greeted by a smug smirk that dared the man to question his loyalty towards England just because he happened to know a few Russian terms curtesy of Bond, “so I will not be kidnapped, in the real sense of the word, or otherwise on their way out.”

 

Alec kept quiet and remained as tense as a bowstring until all the shouting and the shooting became nothing more than murmurs in the background. “Maybe we should stick them in here and have you go free, wouldn’t you agree?” He joked and Q snorted.

 

That was, by far, the strangest way he had ever made a friend and this was after taking into account the one time he befriended an old Yupik that still clung to his ancestors’ ways and who taught him ice fishing while he was assisting Bond on a complicated mission in Eastern Siberia in the middle of December.    

 

Their conversations were pleasant ones – ignoring the ones where he had to turn away the people who wanted to visit him because Alec was of the right opinion that bridges needed to be sustained, not burned – and Q’s fear that Alec would try to get information out of him proving to be completely unfounded.

 

The man was interested in his hobbies, listened rapt to Q’s stories of his life as a hacker that pointed out flaws in systems instead of actually abusing them for his own means, laughed at the stories of how his two cats were jealous of everyone – very smart animals, his friend said – and even listened to him going on and on about a ‘friend’ who constantly ruined the gadgets he sometimes created.

 

“Surely they didn’t do it on purpose!” Alec exclaimed and Q tried his best to focus only on the missions where Bond really had no other choice but to chuck the gadgets, but could only remember the times where he had at least 6 other options _before_ doing that.

 

“My friend was just lazy or in a rush to meet with someone in most cases,” he muttered and pinched the bridge of his nose, strangely happy about the familiar stress headache that was forming just behind his eyes – he had lovingly called that the ‘Bond headache’ and it was an ailment shared by many.

 

“That was mighty inconsiderate of them,” Alec chimed, frowning.

 

Q nodded, unable to hold back a smile. “Still, they’d always get me something as an apology as he would have probably died if they actually said that they were sorry in a non-sarcastic way.” And always ignore Q when he would try to return those little gifts, sometimes even managing to slip in extra expensive tea bags or chocolate bars in his pockets. “And my friend always found a way to annoy me even when they weren’t supposed to be in the office. Just kind-of hang around and touch this or that, no matter how many times I slapped those grabby hands of theirs or put things back where they belonged.”

 

“Did this friend of yours perhaps mean more to you than just a friend?” Alec asked carefully and Q recoiled as if he had been slapped. “I didn’t mean to presume, Q,” he added, looking apologetic. “It’s just that you made the kind of face one usually makes when talking of someone that they see as more than just a friend.”

 

“You’re imagining things,” Q said quickly, dusting invisible dust from his pants. “I look the way I usually do when I am talking about my friends.

 

But Alec couldn’t leave things well enough alone and probed. “What are you to this friend, if I may ask? From what you described to me, your friend was merely tugging on your metaphorical braids and surely they didn’t do this to—”

 

“To me, a friend that I would have risked my own life,” Q interrupted him, huffing. “But I was simply…” he trailed off and sighed, heart hurting. “I was useful,” he added weakly, remembering the last day as an agent for Bond, when the man came not to at least shake his hand and thank him for everything he had done for him – not take him away, as he secretly dreamed of – but to take the keys to the car that he had slaved over for many months. “Let’s talk about something else.”

 

Alec nodded and hummed. “Tell me, Q, what fruits do you like to eat?”

 

The answers he gave resulted in Alec starting to sneak the very fruits that Q proclaimed his love or tolerance for and never in his life did he think he could love the taste of a banana or of an apple so much. And when Alec brought him a little plastic cup filled with the brim with raspberries, Q was sure that he had died and gone to a purgatory that showed glimpses of what heaven would be like.

 

“If you ask me to give you the world in exchange for these goodies, I still wouldn’t…” Q started, but trailed off in favour of letting out a low moan as he carefully licked and sucked on each and every one of his fingers, senses overwhelmed by the berries’ sweetness. “God, give me more.”

 

Alec moved in closer and tapped Q’s forehead, slipping him another cup. “Coincidentally, my lover says that every time I ride him.” Q choked and Alec was quick to start patting his back, a hug away from performing the Heimlich manoeuvre on him.

 

“I am fine,” Q rushed to say, taking a step back not because he was disgusted by the man’s lifestyle, but because he was afraid he’d start choking on a regular basis just to feel those muscles and the warmth of another human. “I just inhaled when I was supposed to swallow and nothing else,” he added when he was sure that he wouldn’t be coughing his lungs anytime soon.

 

Alec arched his eyebrow and took a step back, holding his hands up. “Are you sure that’s the reason? I understand if—”

 

“The friend you suspected I was interested in is very much male. I’m also pansexual,” Q breathed out, flinching and covering his mouth when he realized that he might have said that a bit too loud. This was not the type of personal information you wanted just anyone to know when you were in prison. And then there was the fact that he sort of dropped this bomb on someone who was technically a stranger – and who had dropped the first bomb – and who might have just acted nicely to get some blackmail material – though he did not get that feeling from him; rather, he felt as if he should be ashamed for thinking that of this man.

 

“Please don’t tell anyone,” he added softly, angrily biting his lower lip.

 

“I won’t,” Alec promised, squeezing Q’s shoulder. “It will be _our_ secret and just in case anyone finds out and tries anything or comments, I’ll feed them their own dicks if they so much as look wrongly at you, okay?” he added when he saw how uneasy Q was looking at him, patting his knee and pulling out an orange from his coat to distract him.

 

“Alec, this smells too strongly and they’ll know you’re giving me fruits; you’ll get in trouble,” Q argued, his mouth watering against his best attempts.

 

The man simply started to peel the orange and shoved a piece of it in Q’s mouth, seemingly deciding from then on out to bring food that had a strong smell as the following day he smuggled in Kung Pao chicken with a side of Dim sum – which had Q moaning and licking the boxes clean as his eyes rolled in the back of his head and struggled not to beg for more just in case any passing guards though there were some other things happening in here besides guarding and rule breaking.

 

During their third week of their friendship, Alec started sneaking in fast food and reading his newspaper or magazine that specialized in technology out loud, offhandedly mentioning that he didn’t really _get_ technology beyond the basics of using it after it was explained to him and most certainly not in the way the people who improved and invented things did.

 

“Thank you,” Q all but hiccupped, trying his best not to start outright crying at the kind gesture. “Thank you so very much, Alec.”

 

Alec smiled and popped into the cell to wipe Q’s eyes and ruffle his hair. “You don’t have to thank me, kotyonok. This country owes you a lot and instead of treating you as if you were a god among mortals, it treats you like garbage,” he said seriously, squeezing his shoulder before returning to reading the most boring article as far as he was concerned but kept on saying things he didn’t really understand because Q was so enthralled by the words that he was halfway out of his cell.

 

“If I had access to my laboratory,” Q muttered after Alec was done reading the magazine, trying to fight back yawns, “I would be able to increase the phone’s and laptop’s battery life in less than a day. And don’t get me started on how easily it would be to improve the processor’s speed and capability.”

 

“I’ll bring you more next week,” Alec promised. “And soon, you’ll be treated the way you should have always been treated.” Q’s eyelids were much too heavy and his brain refused to work properly for him to process what his guard-friend had said.

 

Much to his shame, Q hadn’t realized that Alec had been working nonstop for 19 days. In fact, he was outright shocked when a woman dressed as a guard walked in and announced that she was the one tasked with making sure he didn’t try to escape on that Saturday and Sunday because Alec needed time off.

 

“And don’t expect me to feed you like he does, even though you do remind me of a scrawny kitten in a shelter,” she mocked, kicking the bars and starting to laugh when he saw how he flinched. “Scared kittens don’t do anything for me,” she said, her supposedly good mood gone, replaced by annoyance. “Nor kittens that sleep on computers.”

 

As usual, the questioning of his competence is what got under his skin and he was glued to the bars, hissing at her. “I assure you, _madam_ , that I do everything but sleep on computers. I could destroy your life and credit before you are done exhaling. I—”

 

“You can do nothing as things currently are, kitten,” she interrupted him and grabbed his nose between her fingers and twisted a little. “I, on the other hand, can break this button nose of yours and not one guard or inmate would bat a single eyelash, so be a good little kitten and go glower in a corner.” She took out a small book from her coat and threw it at his head before disappearing from his sight.  

 

Monday seemed to take an entire month before it arrived and Q’s happiness was crushed the second a new guard walked in. This one had the same deadly air around him that the woman had, though he was taller and it was impossible to think him harmless during a dangerous situation. But unlike the woman who was gorgeous and who was easy to tell when she was making her way back to his cell by the every inmate whistled, the almost giant with shining teeth in his mouth scared him less.

 

As such, he had no problem demanding to know what had happened to Alec. “Family issue,” the giant said after a moment of mulling things over. “Miss Onatopp has weekends and I have weekdays until Mister—” He stopped right then and there, shaking his head, and killing Q with curiosity. “Banana and KFC for you,” he said instead and pushed a bag through the bars.

 

Q took the bag with a slight tremor in his hands, unsure if this was a step up or not. “I do not know why you would give me—”

 

“Mister Alec,” Q made a note of the fact that this guard addressed his friend like that, “said to make sure you get these things while he is away.” He seemed to remember something and lumbered out of the room, only to return not a minute later with a plastic bag filled to the brim with magazines. “He also said to read you from here, but…” He trailed off and tapped his head.

 

Q’s fingers twitched and his heart skipped a beat in joy. “If I were to be caught reading these or eating—”

 

The man grinned and Q shrunk even more in his bed, clutching the bag to his chest. “I’ll take good care of anyone that might be bothered by that,” he promised, also cracking his knuckles for added effect. “Call me Jaws, Mister Q.” Of course that would be the name he went by, wouldn’t it?

 

The week passed slowly and his new guard never started a conversation out of his own free will, more than happy to sit by Q’s cell and just read his silly little comics. However, the week did not pass without incident as a few inmates had managed to sneak out of their cell in the middle of the night and attempted to gut Q – who was he that he got to be treated as if he was better than them, they had gasped out as his silent guard squeezed the life out of them until he was _ordered_ to back down – the food went bad, but ten other inmates got sick before he could eat from it and he simply refused it – his silent guard getting ready to shove the food down the cook’s throat when he started to insist that Q ate – and some pipes broke while Q was in the shower, almost stabbing him.

 

But even with all of that taken into account, what happened on Friday was what got Q upset beyond all belief. He was ‘happily’ reading a book in his cage in the garden when his guard suddenly took it from his hands and easily lifted him to his feet.  

 

“You’ve got a visitor,” is what the juggernaut said, not bothered in the least that Q had dug his heels in the ground and started to struggle in his hold.

 

“I really don’t want to see anyone, Jaws,” Q muttered, his heart beating so hard and fast that he was sure it was going to jump out of his chest. “Jaws, I really don’t to let anyone I know see me like this!” He was close to having a panic attack, but the guard just continued to drag him, waving away the others that had come to search Q for any hidden weapons or whatnot.

 

He prayed that the door wouldn’t open, he prayed that an earthquake would come and force everyone to do anything that would stop him for facing whoever was waiting him, he prayed for another attempted breakout, but nothing of the sorts happened and he was easily thrown in the room, his eyes closed as his body collided with someone else’s.   

 

And he felt even worse when his brain registered the visitor’s cologne, because only one man in his life was willing to pay that much to smell good – and that person was the last one Q wanted to see while he was here. “Bond,” he hiccupped and his body tensed, attempting to push away and run towards the door, hoping that he would be strong enough to body slam it open.

 

But the man held him tighter and rested his lips against his ear, hushing him. “I know,” he whispered. “I _know_ ,” he insisted when Q attempted to explain himself, but only managed to let out a whimper. “And everything is going to be okay. We’re taking care—”

 

“Who’s ‘we’?”

 

Bond hugged him tighter, hushing him again. “It’s of no importance right now,” he assured him and finally took a step back to look at him, Q already squirming and trying to find a way to hide. “You’ve lost weight and you’re paler than usual,” he growled, not letting go of his hand and tilting his head back. “Your glasses are—”

 

“I don’t want to see you,” Q interrupted him, trying to tug his hand free. “Why are you here? Why aren’t you married to Miss Swann and the father of ten already?” He demanded, shaking with anger. “I don’t want to see anyone, especially you!” He finally managed to free himself and ran towards the door, banging with his fists against him. “Guard! Guard, I am done and I want to go back to my cell!”

 

“Q,” James whispered, wrapping his arms around his middle, resting his lips against the back of his neck for a fraction of a moment which made Q hate him so much because he froze and all but turned putty in his arms.

 

***

 

Even after all his time in his own shoes and with full knowledge of how his relationships with people not from his world tended to ended, James still managed to be genuinely surprised when his ‘love’ for Madeleine burned out. He just woke up one day and _knew_ that it wasn’t going anywhere because a cosy life wasn’t for him and he craved danger and the rush he got when he was either chased down or chasing people and the woman was, sadly, in complete agreement with him.

 

They parted on good terms and with promises to remain friends, but James knew the latter to be a lie so he threw himself in the awaiting and forgiving arms of alcohol because he was, once again, alone. He was aware that he could return to MI6, to Eve, to the always forgiving and caring Q, to Tanner, but he just wanted to get lost in the bottom of a bottle for a day or two – or an undetermined amount of time because he really couldn’t keep count of the days when he could barely remember how water tasted like.

 

He was so drunk that he didn’t even blink when someone suddenly lifted him up from the mountain of pillows he was sitting on and carried him out of dingy hotel that he was surely overpaying for. He worried for a moment about maybe being stripped, tied up to a chair, and tortured until he revealed everything he knew about MI6, but he forgot all about that the second his back touched a very soft mattress.

 

That person nursed him until there wasn’t a single drop of alcohol - or food - left in his body and when his headache finally subsided and he opened his eyes, he questioned just how much of his sanity he had left.

 

“So drinking does affect your mind in the long run,” he muttered as he stared at his dead friend looking the sourest he had ever seen him. “So some doctors do-”

 

“That’s enough,” Alec said, slapping James’ hand away. “I have never seen you acting as pathetic as you are now.”

 

“I don’t need a dead man insulting me,” James sneered, turning with his back at his hallucination. Just for once in his entire life, he wanted his apparitions to be on his side and not rub his nose in all the horrible mistakes he’d done. It’s not like he can go back in time to fix what he’d done, so why did his subconscious insist on bothering him with that? And he did learn from his mistakes, so it couldn’t be because he was making the same mistakes over and over again.

 

His train of thought got derailed when his back was poked and he was taken aback by the fact that he was staring out the window at the full moon instead of the pesky sun from a few minutes ago - although, the moon was still much too bright for his liking. “I’m the immature one in this relationship, James.”

 

“You’re the dead one.” This was the first time that Alec hadn’t turned into nightmare fuel and James struggled against his instinct to turn away from the man. He had forgotten how he looked without bleeding from his eyes, nose, or mouth, and he wanted for this image to be burned into his head for all eternity.

 

“Am I?” The figment of his imagination asks and James winced when it leaned close to him.

 

In horror movies, this would be the part where the tormented ghost revealed itself to be a horrid apparition and while he wasn’t squeamish about those things - or else he wouldn’t have been in the navy or a spy - he wasn’t too keen on his dead friend starting to bleed and rot all over him while accusing him of not moving fast enough to save him.

 

But that didn’t happen. Alec remained the same, his skin a healthy pink, and his eyes as filled with amusement as ever. In fact, the only strange thing that James could pick up on was the fact that he was… “Warm,” he whispered, grabbing Alec’s hand. “Solid and warm,” he said again and his friend allowed  him to tug on his hair, poke whatever part of his body he wanted until he finally cupped the back of his neck and cradled his head against his chest, right over where his beating heart was.

 

“Moy dorogoy, I am as alive as I ever was,” Alec whispered in his ear, the tender show of emotion a clear hint of just how worried the not-ghost was for him as only in time of real need did their playful teasing and socially imposed rough natures - which they loved to embrace only because it was a real part of themselves - gave way to gentle nature. “I suppose I should have come out of hiding earlier, shouldn’t I, tigr?”

 

With a growl, James pushed Alec away. He’d show him tiger, he thought and launched himself towards the waiting arms, using all of his weight to push the man under him. “I thought you dead,” he sneered and pulled his arm back, hand fisted. “I thought I had moved too slow to save you.” He punched him. “I thought I killed you for misusing Boothroyd’s gadgets.” He punched him again and again, his heavy breathing only making him feel even lightheaded than he already was.

 

“But you didn’t,” Alec supplied for him, catching his fist before it could connect to his face again. Bloody bastard didn’t even have the decency to have at least a rivulet of blood in the corner of his mouth. “I was severely hurt and in a coma for a little over a year, but-”

 

“You’ve been dead for three years,” James snapped and rolled off of Alec, kicking him in the gut to get him to let go of his hand. He leaned against a wall, shaking his head in an attempt to get the world to come back into focus, hissing when Alec dared to touch his shoulder. “I buried your best suit because we couldn’t find your body.”

 

“Punishment enough?” Alec said in a joking manner, obviously trying to lighten up the mood and if James wasn’t afraid that he’d either collapse into a pathetic pile on the floor again or that he’d literally vomit his stomach as there was nothing else left in it, he would have launched himself at him again.

 

Instead, he focused on _not_ doing that and on _not_ thinking at how vulnerable he was currently acting, choosing to put the blame on his emotional state on the little withdrawal period he always went through when he tried to sober up.  “I should have you dig up your own grave, feed you what is left of that suit and coffin and then bury you alive.”

 

Alec bit his own tongue and quietly left the room, closing the door behind him but not locking it. Some light food and two bottles of water were sent to him five minutes later, delivered by a beautiful blonde woman with a very revealing cleavage and playful green eyes, but James sent her away without as much as a second glance her way.

 

He refused breakfast and the written invitation from Alec – this time delivered by a thin man with dark brown hair that had him looking twice because, for a moment, he thought that it was Q – to go around the house and the island because he wanted to be a petulant child. He wanted to lock himself up in this room that he refused to think of it as his because it was given to him by Alec, and be upset until the end of time. He had all the right to do that and Alec knew it and didn’t push too hard – but didn’t back off either.

 

The man brought him dinner that night and held a speech – although he had tried to make it into a conversation, but James made sure to have his mouth full and his face set into a scowl the entire time. He told him about how he had saved him by leading their enemies away even if he was bleeding under the burning rubble, about how a huntsman and his son had found him still breathing and first took him to their witch doctor before the man called for a chopper to take him away, and about how he had woken up full of rage and thirsty for revenge.

 

“I thought you had abandoned me,” a hard glare that would have killed him instantly if looks had that ability, “but deep inside, I knew better and I just needed time to heal mentally and physically.”

 

James too had needed time to heal after he had buried him, but maybe Alec thought so little of him that he put mourning beyond him. The bloody, insufferable, git of a bastard who couldn’t see past his perfect arse.

 

An empty soup plate flew towards Alec and the man dodged, James pushing the table out of his way and lunging after him. He was kicked to the side before he could actually land on him, James managing to land a very good fist in his nose when the man rushed to check and see if he was okay, apologizing in the most mocking way possible for not holding back.

 

“I’m not holding back either, so no need to act like the weakling you are,” James snarled as he continued to punch him, this time hearing a bone crack even as blood stained Alec’s white silk shirt.

 

The door was kicked open and James stopped when he heard multiple guns getting cocked, eyes darting around the room as he calculated just what chances he had of taking out the three armed guards without getting killed and then continuing to pound into the living bastard. He should have guessed that he was a bird in a golden cage and his anger on Alec increased tenfold.

 

“Lower your guns and get out of the room!” Alec ordered, flinching when he touched his nose. “And wake the doctor up and tell her that I need my nose reset,” he added, hands slipping up James’ legs, resting them just above his backbone. “People still have a hard time understanding how our courting goes, tigr.”

 

James smacked his forehead and got off of him in a huff, wiping his bloodied hands on the drapes – everything that he could do to make Alec play made him feel slightly better. “I am not courting you, you arse! I am trying to beat some sense into you!”

 

“MIlaya moyna we both know that I will never, for as long as I live, have sense,” Alec whispered in his ear, wrapping his arms around him. “But that’s okay; all I really need is your understanding and, even though this makes me sound like a sappy weakling, your love.”

 

James didn’t answer him right away, but did not punch him when his neck was kissed. He also made the first step towards forgiving him by pushing a clean part of the drapes in his face. “If you dare bleed to death…” he trailed off and shoved Alec out the door, slamming it shut behind him.

 

A week passed before James could have a conversation with Alec without suddenly deciding that his nose was healing too fast for his liking and two more jokes about death were accepted between them. By the end of the month, Alec was happily presenting him to everyone one the island and explaining what he had done after, in his own words, growing a back his brain.

 

It had become painfully obvious that MI6 did not care about his own people and saw them as nothing but cannon fodder, so he wanted to do something about it. His original plan had been buying and privatizing MI6, but he didn’t have enough money for that – James pointed out that even if he shat money and he had diarrhoea that lasted for an entire month, he still couldn’t have done that because MI6 was never going to be sold.

 

But it could be taken over, as the most recent happenings proved, and James’ blood turned cold at the thought that Alec had met and befriended his psychotic brother and was now trying to convince him to work for them.

 

As if reading his mind, Alec gently elbowed him, scowling at him. “I can still be replaced by something that cares for his people and treats them as human beings and not disposable weapons.”

 

“Spectre is not—”

 

“Not what I have in mind, no,” Alec quickly interrupted him, turning on a laptop and turning it to face James. “Not a private army either, but another agency that answers to its people first and to pencil pushers third. I can live with working alongside MI6 if we have to, but it would please me even more if we replaced it.”

 

“We?” James asked carefully, noting the name of the program – Janus – and wondering if perhaps Alec chose to see the two faces of the god as ‘duality’ rather than what it really meant.

 

Alec hummed, squeezing James’ shoulders in a failed attempt at starting to give him a massage – the man’s hands were weapons even when he was trying to be gentle. “I was hoping you would be by my side at the head of this organization as well as an active agent since we both know that paperwork is not for us.”

 

He shrugged Alec’s hands off and turned to the side to look at him, “And if I said no?”

 

“I would hope that won’t get in the way of us being at least friends?” He drummed his fingers over James’ shoulders, grinning in a suggestive way. “I am not Franz, James; I already presented my portfolio to the Queen – yes, I dared to go over the Prime Minister’s head after the whole ‘missing the obvious bad guys that wanted to take over the world’ fiasco – and she seemed pleased. I think.” He frowned suddenly and moved away from James’ neck. “That woman is impossible to read, but she looked less sour after finishing reading them and her corgis had stopped chewing on my legs, so I am taking it as a good sign.”

 

A sigh of relief and a blunt turn down and they started to enjoy what they had been served, James explaining exactly why he wanted to go back to MI6. It was out of a sense of duty, yes, but not towards the agency itself or whoever was running it – it was towards Q. Not the old Q, no, of course, but towards the young man who constantly endangered himself and his job for him.

 

He couldn’t help but openly praise his mind now that he wasn’t there to hear him and use his own words against him to get him to follow his instructions out on the field to the letter because not only was he a genius, but  he was also sly. Sure, he heard him stumble through a lie when it came to some of his superiors and his brain just froze when he came to lying to Tanner directly, but in situations that required it, he proved to have a silver tongue and did not hesitate to get down and dirty.

 

“And tell me, James… Just how _good_ is he with his silver tongue of his? And just how down and dirty did you two get?” Alec asked, leaning closer to him and bumping their knees together. “Do tell me that M’s desk was involved in this somehow; I like to picture her doing 360s in her grave every now and then.”

 

“Alec, I wasn’t referring to that and you know it.”

 

Alec snorted, rolling his eyes. “Come on; you know I was never the jealous type.”

James frowned. “I really haven’t done anything with my Q—”

 

“ _Your_ Q, hmm?” Alec pointed out, chuckling as he patted his back. “I don’t think you get to call him that if you haven’t even checked to see just how good he is with his tongue. Or isn’t he interested in the same sex?’

 

Q was as straight as the line he drew when he was piss drunk and he was sure of what he was saying not because he had spied on the man or studied his mannerisms – not that doing that would help – but because he had met his date at the party thrown in the new M’s honour and it was a man. Or a mouse that looked like a man. He was skittish – he was in a room full of assassins, but that didn’t matter – he liked alcohol a bit too much if anyone asked him – Alec was sure no one did – chewed loudly – now that was nit-picking and he knew it –  allowed his hands to move too low – complained the man who was comfortable with using his arse as a hand rest – and, worst of all, had not only roaming eyes and hands, but was okay with making out with others in the bathroom where Q couldn’t see him.

 

That caused Alec to choke on whatever smartarse quip he had prepared and his smile instantly dropped. “Did you take care of him? Or is he the reason why Q has not been between your sheets just yet?”

 

“Oh, the man is long gone from the picture, but Q informed me that my license to kill did not extend to vermin that walked on two feet when I offered and that it is a hassle to clean up after me when I don’t follow orders.”

 

He closed his eyes and remembered how uncaring the man had looked when he had informed his pathetic partner that he had two minutes to vacate the premises before he turned the security system on him, strongly hinting at having managed to build actual Daleks and that he was looking into creating Cybermen – whatever those two things were – before excusing himself to go work on an urgent project that he suddenly remembered.

 

“Okay, Q is no stranger to ‘man-loving’, he’s good at what he’s supposed to do if not better, and he obviously has to look tasty if your eyes sparkle in that cliché way they do when you talk about him, so why did run away with  Miss Swann?”

 

It didn’t surprise James at all that Alec knew what he had done. He did, after all, know where to come and drag him away before he drank himself into a coma. “I thought I was in love with her,” came James’ honest reply.

 

Of course now when he compared the two, he wanted to kick himself. And he was pretty sure that one of the many reasons Madeleine was happy for their relationship to be over was because every other sentence that came out of his mouth had something to do with Q. When she asked for tea for the first time, James remembered how Q liked to drink it and offered to make it like that for her. When her computer broke and the IT specialist they took it to said that there was nothing that could be done, he complained to her for the following hours that Q would have surely fixed it in five minutes tops and maybe even make it better.

 

Then there were the instances when she had called him to ask him to get something and for some strange reason, he asked Q what he wanted instead of saying her name. Even in the mornings when he was suddenly roused from one of his usual horrible nightmares, he was sure Q the one holding him in his arms for the first few minutes, never questioning that his head was cradled against a firm pair of breasts.

 

“He looked sadder when he gave me the keys to the Aston than when he caught his lover cheating on him,” he added in complete shame, hanging his head.

 

After giving him a good punch because James knew how horrible it was for someone to walk all over your heart and then outright do something to prove that they were just being used – even if James swore that he wasn’t doing that to Q, despite the evidence – Alec insisting on giving him a ride to London that very night.

 

Ride which James was more than happy to accept and pleased to see that Alec had a really fast jet. What he wasn’t so happy about was when the most skittish and sad looking boffin that he had ever met informed him that the Quartermaster was out and that it would be for the best to allow the twenty security guards that spawned out from nowhere give them a thorough pat down before going to discuss with M about _things_.

 

Eve wasn’t at her post and the scared doe that looked at him as she clutched her purse did nothing to calm him down. And when he finally laid eyes on M – a new M – the man was so nervous that he was visibly sweating, finger hovering over the place where the panic button had to be.

 

“Let me start off by welcoming you back—”

 

“I am sure you have a sniper trained on me already, so get to the point,” he interrupted him, already cracking his knuckles.

 

“We had to do it and he’s safe,” the man said quickly, dabbing at his forehead with a handkerchief. “We made really sure of that and once he’s out, we’ll give him a hefty—”

 

“Out from where?” Redundant question as he already had a pretty good guess, but he just wanted to hear those words out loud.

 

The man gulped, a glass of cheap vodka was drained, and a new handkerchief got ruined with his sweat. “From jail.”

 

The rage that threatened to overtake him was great, but James managed to reign himself in by taking one deep breath and remembering one of Q’s older accusations about how he never thought things through and made everything harder and worse for everyone in his mind. “I see,” he said evenly and sat back in his chair. “That is most unfortunate. Might I know the reason?”

 

This insult to the title of M looked amazed at him and James had to ask again before he remembered how to speak. “Well, after the whole Spectre fiasco…” He trailed off and drank some more. “We had no real choice, I swear and I also promise that when he gets out, we will make sure that he is heavily compensated and we will also pay for a nice, _small_ apartment in London as his retirement gift.”

 

“And when will that be?” The man started to look around while tugging on his collar and James didn’t need to hear anything else to know. “Well, if it is for the good of MI6.”

 

M had a fit of nervous laughter that lasted a good minute before finally relaxing. “I was afraid for a minute that you’d go berserk.”

 

“Again, the sniper’s red dot on my shoulder gave it away.”

 

The man tugged on his collar again and James wondered how it was possible for someone this nervous to be put in such an important position. “For the good of MI6,” he reiterated, laughing when James did. “Well, now that we got that out of the way, we should discuss reinstating you. You’ll have to go through your—”

 

“I’m not coming back,” James cut him off, loving the way the man choked on his words. “I was here to thank Q for his loyalty and give him his car back alongside a house for when he retires. And speaking of which, _where_ is he being detained? Not in here, I hope, as that would be too cruel to keep the man in the very place for which he put his life on the line oh so many times before sacrificing his freedom for it.”

 

As luck would have it, Q wasn’t detained in any of the agency’s buildings, so ‘springing’ him out wasn’t going to be as easy as James had hoped. But Alec assured him that everything would be okay and promised that he would do everything in his power to get Q to be pardoned. Pardoned, not busted out, Alec insisted on pointing out, promising to personally look after Q as people were surely be tipped off if a new guard that looked exactly like James appeared.

 

It took a bit of convincing, but James finally agreed to the whole thing and Alec set his legal team on everything MI6 ever did while he had Janus’ boffin department hack the prison’s computer system to enlist himself as Q’s new personal guard.

 

When he got the first picture of Q, a mirror was broken. He packed a light bag – that was actually full of things that would be useful in a prison break – and made a beeline for the landing back where he was swiftly intercepted by Alec, the man wrapping himself around him to keep him still.

 

“He doesn’t want to see anyone, James,” Alec whispered in his ear, forcing him to kneel down. “And need I remind you that you aren’t supposed to know where he is?”

 

“He’s clearly underfed, he’s as white as a sheet of the finest paper in existence, and—”

 

“Then give me a list of what he likes,” Alec interrupted him and everyone left them alone because they were getting really comfortable in the position they were in, “and I’ll sneak them to him because he’s as tight-lipped as they come and he either treats me with his back or he gives me the silent treatment. How in the world anyone thought that he could be a traitor is beyond me.”

 

It was beyond James as well, but this was one of those rare occasions in which Alec had a good point. “What do you think of Q?” He asked instead and fully relaxed under Alec, starting to caress his thigh.

 

“Is this a new kink for you?” Alec asked, flinching when James pinched him hard, returning the pain by grabbing his nipples and giving them a good twist, subduing him. “Seriously though, I still can’t understand why he played second fiddle to you.” He twisted again when he felt James try to move. “Even if he were dumb, I’d still want to have him as a bed warmer. And let me tell you,” he leaned really close to James’ ear, lips brushing it as he spoke, “he would have gladly offered himself to you on a silver platter if the way he talks about you is any indication.”

 

He knew that Alec was teasing and in the past, he wouldn’t have batted a single a single eyelash. But they had been apart for many years and he was still irked over Alec holding the secret for so long, not to mention that he felt as if Q’s name was being dragged through the mud so he pushed his wrist in Alec’s neck and forced him off of him.

 

“Q doesn’t deserve to be treated like that,” he growled. “And if you think that I’ll let you use him when he’s at his lowest point—”

 

“But he’s more than just a pretty face, tigr,” Alec said between chokes. “I want to put him on a pedestal and have the world worship him as a good without allowing their unworthy eyes rest on him. He’s perfect in the position of a Quartermaster and I hoped he accepts my offer when I make it.”

 

That wasn’t the sanest thing James had heard and if it were anyone else but Alec, he would have worried, but Alec was Alec so that declaration didn’t faze him. In fact, it pleased him and it gave him hope for something that might start off as a working arrangement – if Q was willing to go back into that world again – and end up being something perfect.

 

“Don’t insist if he turns you down,” he warned and stepped back, arranging his cufflinks.

 

Alec waited for him to be done before starting to unbutton his jacket, nibbling down his throat. “I didn’t push when you did that and in the end, you willingly came to me. Though,” he chuckled, using his phone to lock down the hanger and turn off the cameras, “I think I’d just see you between the sheets if MI6 still had Q.”

 

James really couldn’t argue with that and he also wondered if he would have been as determined as he was now to get Q between them if he wasn’t faced with the possibility of losing him. And that made him selfish, didn’t it? He should just help Q get his honour back and then do everything in his power to make sure he is happy before stepping out of his life and giving him peace, shouldn’t he?

 

But the last time he did that—

 

“Alec!” He shouted, train of thought interrupted by the flinch caused due to the sudden use with ill intent of teeth. “What are you trying to do?”

 

“Get you to focus on me and what I am doing here and nothing else,” he said simply, slowly dragging his finger down James’ hard length. “But I see that all my attempts are for naught, so I think I will pay Q a visit and offer him my services.” He grinned as he licked his lips, _accidentally_ brushing it against James. “Promise that I won’t breathe a word about how mind blowing it will be or how much he enjoyed it to you.”

 

The hanged remained closed for three hours and when they finally got out of there, Alec made sure to send an e-mail to the ‘treasurer’ to give the cleaning crew on duty that night a hefty bonus as wells as ordered for new cleaning equipment to be bought.

 

As Q’s bodyguard and subtle doctor, Alec did a good job. With each text that had a candid picture attached, Q looked like he gained a little bit more colour and weight and his lifeless eyes seemed to be regaining their spark. He knew it wasn’t going to fully come back until he was free, but he reigned his instincts in and continue to supply Alec with every small things he knew without a doubt Q liked, enjoying the half-smiles the man presented without knowing.

 

But he knew that good news couldn’t last forever, so he wasn’t all that surprised when a Janus agent presented him with information according to which certain factions of MI6 decided that Q was too dangerous to be kept alive altogether as there was no guarantee that the man wouldn’t really turn traitor after he got out and so, they decided to kill him while he was still in prison.

 

And when faced with this information, Alec had no other choice but to agree to break him out and keep him hidden somewhere until all the mess was dealt with. “But I’ll do the breaking out as I don’t think we’ll have an easy time keeping him hidden if an overzealous former double oh agent busts in, kills everyone that even resembles a threat to Q before picking him up bridal style and carries him off while the prisons blows up behind him like a cliché—”

 

“I get it,” James interrupted him, massaging his temples. “You get him out and I’ll continue to breathe down everyone’s necks until ‘Janus’ is legal and his name is cleared.”

 

In the end, when all the pieces were in the proper place, Alec went that extra mile and bought every prison worker so James could go visit Q. There was still the possibility of everything going to hell, but both men needed to see each other, James because he was worrying himself into insomnia and Q because… Well, Q needed the visit the most, despite claiming his silly claim that he didn’t want to see anyone he knew.

 

James felt as if he had won the jackpot and made sure to wear his best suit and put just a bit more aftershave – the one he knew that Q liked because the man always closed his eyes without realizing it when he was close to him – than normal, fiddling with his diamond cufflinks so much that he lost one on his way to the helipad.

 

And Alec was having the time of his life. “I’m going to pull out the security footage and show it to Q.” He held out a box with new cufflinks before he could get punched and James went on his way.

 

***

 

“I know I am asking too much of you, Q, but you have to trust me when I tell you that everything will be okay,” James had whispered as they parted, squeezing his hands. “You are safe here and no harm will befall you,” he continued to whisper, running his hands through his hair and bumping their foreheads together – Q pucking his lips a bit because he foolishly thought they were going to kiss, but he had been in prison for a long time and his own touch did only so much for him – before Jaws entered the room and gently nudged him away.

 

And Q believed him because that’s what he always did and he ended up questioning his supposed genius as he bleed on the tiles of the empty prison bathroom, stabbed by that horrid woman, someone that wasn’t her hovering over him.

 

This is what he got for putting all of his eggs in James’ basket, but he really couldn’t blame anyone but himself – and his heart never allowed to blame him out of all people, no matter how many times his superiors, friends, and instincts told him otherwise. James always _meant_ good, but things never turned out that way.

 

Well, they do say that it is never too late to learn anything and he learned three things out of this whole experience. One: even if you’re told by your favourite agent to trust your guard, don’t do that if they are self-proclaimed psychopaths that name their knives. Two: learning something when you are a few minutes from bleeding to death and you know that no one is coming to save you _is_ too late to learn that something. And finally three: being stabbed hurt less than he thought it would.

 

Actually, other than a small stinging sensation that was quickly followed by numbness and the need to sleep, he didn’t feel anything. But the water around him was red and he felt something warm trickle down his side, where the woman had pushed the knife, so he had to be bleeding, right? Or did she nicked him in an place that was instant death and his brain was slowly shutting down and that was why he couldn’t feel anything anymore?

 

Also, wasn’t he supposed to see his whole life flashing before his eyes? And how long had he been lying there exactly? The water wasn’t running anymore, he was cold, the floor under him felt strange, and he was staring at a different ceiling, he was sure of it.

 

“His cheeks are very rosy for someone who bled to death,” the man who recognized as the prison’s doctor said as his wrinkled face suddenly appeared above him. “Are we sure that’s what happened to him? Maybe he’s been poisoned or—”

 

“That’s what we’re here to find out,” someone that was out of his field of vision said and Q tried for naught to turn his head around and see who it was.

 

This was more than wrong, he supposed. Wasn’t he supposed to be turning towards a bright light where those dear to him waited for him or towards an apocalyptic scene where a red guy with horns and a pitchfork and a desperate need to shave his legs was waiting for him? And, most importantly, why could he _feel_?  Is this what happened after you died? Your body simply stopped working even if you were still conscious?

 

Oh God he didn’t want to go through his own autopsy! They had to stop! He was still alive even if he couldn’t move or talk or scream or feel his heart beating as erratic as it was supposed to! They couldn’t cut him up while he was still aware of what was happening! He had a really low threshold for pain and while he was sure that he would start off rambling long lines of code or scream until his throat was raw if he were ever captured and torture was applied until he was saved – back when MI6 still considered him important and a human being – but now he couldn’t even do that!

 

What he was forced to go through was more than inhuman and cruel and he tried to remember what horrible thing he had done that warranted his current stay in what had to be hell, but he couldn’t really think of anything else other than the fact that someone was going to cut him open and pull out his internal organs to have them weighted. Would he die from the pain or suffer through it in his mind until his heart was finally pulled out? Was this what fish went through? At least no one was going to skin him alive—

 

“My assistant and I will take care of this autopsy, so you may return to your post,” the stranger said, smiling sardonically where Q assumed the doctor to be.

 

“I beg your pardon?” He exclaimed, Q giving out a mental sigh of relief when he heard a metallic clanking right next to his ear. “I am in charge of all sick and dead inmates here and he falls—”

 

“Right out of your jurisdiction despite his status as a dead inmate,” the stranger interrupted him, finally walking in Q’s restricted field of vision as he put on his plastic gloves. “I already presented you with the documents that state as much, so I do not understand where the problem is.” He glanced down at Q and winked. “Take it up with the warden and his superiors, but let us do our jobs so we can release his body to his grieving family.”

 

“Well, we’ll just see about that!”

 

A door slammed shut and the stranger sighed, patting his head gently even as another unknown person leaned over him. “We’ll take good care of you,” he promised as he tucked the sheet around his middle before shining a bright light in his eyes. “Ah, thought so. I warned that Miss Onatopp wouldn’t be able to do this properly.”

 

There was another pinch in his side and he just...stopped caring. Or rather, he decided that he was much too sleepy to care and even though he did not remember how he managed to get his eyes to close - or if they even did that - the next time he was aware that he was staring at something, it was at a large window and he was sitting on his side in a very soft bed.

 

“The ocean,” he muttered, not really aware of that. As far as he was concerned, he was still stuck inside his mind.

 

Thinking that he could maybe imagine himself walking towards the window, he pictured himself jumping out of the bed, surprised that it actually happened. And he knew that it wasn’t in his head because, as he crumbled to the floor, his forehead against it and it hurt rather bad.

  
“You should stay in bed until the doctor says everything is okay,” Jaws’s voice came out of nowhere, Q flinching when a blanket was draped over his shoulders and he was effortlessly – and yet somehow gently – pulled to his feet.

 

But Q didn’t want to sit in the bed. He didn’t even want to be in the room. “It’s snowing,” he muttered and slid out between the sheets before Jaws was done tucking him in, unsteady legs almost causing him to fall three times by the time he glued himself to the cold window.

 

“You should really stay on something soft and warm,” Jaws tried to insist, lumbering with the blanket held before him after Q.  But Q dodged the blanket at the last second, fixing the open door. “Mister Q, you’re clutching the frame of the window; I’ll catch you before you even reach the door without trying.”

 

Thinking that this had to be a dream induced by the lack of oxygen resulting from maybe the doctor removing one of his lungs, Q closed his eyes and pictured himself outside only to find himself being guided towards the bed. Holding out his arm towards Jaws – who looked like he was trying his best not to suffocate him with the blanket while wrapping him up in it like a burrito – Q made a demand. “Pinch me as hard as you can.”

 

“I would end up ripping your skin,” the man said, patting his head as if he were a kitten and smiling. “But the doctor’s puny enough to do any serious damage.”

 

On cue, the doctor walked in and Q’s hands shut up to his chest because this was the man who was getting ready to cut him up. “You were under sedation and all we did was put some makeup on you to make it _look_ like we did an autopsy of you, forged some papers, and then wheeled you out of there,” the man said before Q could work himself into a full blown panic attack, quickly giving him the stethoscope to hear his own heart beating.

 

The sound calmed down Q somewhat, as did the fact that the apparent threat that was used to sew him back up disappeared when it was scratched. “If you think that I’ll betray—”

 

He was cut off by the doctor pushing a thermometer in his mouth. “I need you to keep still and quiet for a few moments.” He pulled out an electrical thermometer out of his back when he wasn’t sure of the result he got, so it was clear that he used the first one just to shut him up. “You’re as healthy as a depressed, wrongfully imprisoned, young man that tended to overwork and under-eat can be,” he declared as he started to write a long list. “I’ll recommend a nice, sunny island over this one as well as lots of exercise.”

 

This was the first time he heard of doctors recommending _islands_. Nevertheless, it was good to know the type of land that he was currently on, even if it didn’t really help all that much. “I would much rather prefer London, so could you recommend that to whoever owns this place?”

 

“I’d lose my licence if I did that,” the doctor joked, continuing to write on of what Q counted as the fifth piece of paper.

 

“Okay then, since you mentioned that I need lots of exercise, tell Jaws to let me go outside,” Q demanded, heart skipping a beat when Jaws frowned at him. Again, the man had to _struggle_ to be gentle and not break anything when he was calm, so Q really didn’t want to see what he could do when he was angry.

 

For his part, the doctor shrugged, ripping the pieces of paper he had written on and placing them on the small table next to Q. “I’ll not object provided you dress properly and let someone accompanying you as you aren’t fully recovered from what you were given to look dead.”

 

A petite woman that he had never seen before appeared out of nowhere and opened a door in his room that he hadn’t noticed, exposing a walk-in closet. She smiled reassuringly at him as he carefully made his way inside, knowing from the first glance that everything was in his size, and that there wasn’t even a single orange stripe on anything.

 

“My _benefactor_ is getting creepier which each moment that passes,” he muttered and turned to look at the woman who ducked her head before quickly excusing herself. “Will you two do the same?” The doctor cleared his throat, looking at his phone and Jaws focused on making sure that his jacket was closed properly. “I’ll take the silence as an affirmative answer.”

 

Having someone as his shadow while going outside was nothing new for him and a prison didn’t need bars to be one. And this house – villa, really – made him think of such a gilded cage as he walked down the long corridors devoid of any real personal touch to them. He was tempted to just pull open one of the many doors just to see if he would either end up staring at an empty room or if he could come face to face with another prisoner.

 

“I would give you a tour of the house,” Jaws started, scrunching up his nose and cracking his knuckles as he did when he was faced with a word that Q had to walk him through, “but this was bought when I wasn’t here and I only know how to get out. And how to get to your room. And—”

 

“I understand,” Q interrupted him, smiling kindly at him right before pulling the front door open.

 

Maybe he was going to get to see the rest of his new prison later or maybe not, but right now he was drowning in the smell of fresh snow and salty water and the cold air was nipping at his face. He found that he was suddenly too excited and much too happy at the lack of guard towers and barbwire fences to worry about anything else right then and, after taking a deep breath, he fell face first into the snow.

 

Jaws was quick to pull him back up, but Q wobbled two steps away from the man and threw himself on his back, starting to make a snow angel. “Let me enjoy myself,” he asked Jaws when the man made to get him back on his feet again. “The only snow I saw there was the one that I had to shovel out of the small courtyard.”

 

The man opened his mouth to argue, but then quickly closed it and just assumed his statue position, hands folded in front of him, fixing a point somewhere in the distance with his threatening glare. Q rolled around as much as he could, ignoring that he could no longer feel any part of his body in favour of covering himself with even more snow and just staring up at the grey sky, opening his mouth so he could taste the snow – he had been craving ice cream for a year and even though the snow had no taste, he could still pretend.

 

“I don’t think they’ll be too happy to find you covered in snow and wet to the bone, or to hear the way your teeth clatter,” Jaws said just as the sound of approaching chopper drowned out the sound of the waves crashing against ground. “If you’re not careful with that, you might end up with braces like mine.”

 

“Who won’t be happy?” Q asked, eyes narrowed, rolling away when the man tried to drag him in an upright position.

 

Jaws took another step and Q rolled even further away, making him frown. “I was told it will be a surprise and I don’t want to ruin it.” Q arched his eyebrow at him. The last surprise he got was the stamp of the traitor alongside an apparently permanent bed in a prison. “I think it will be a surprise you like,” Jaws added and attempted to smile, proving that he would never have a job that involved children unless he was hired to scare them out of doing something dangerous.

 

“I highly doubt that,” Q said after a moment, yelping when two arms were dug under his armpits and he was finally pulled out of his frozen security blanket.

 

“How lucky am I to find a frozen kitten in the snow?” asked Alec, rubbing his face against the back of his neck. “Jaws, please tell me that you did a better job at watching over him while you were in charge back at the prison, or else I will find myself even more displeased of you than I was with Miss Onatopp.”

 

Jaws lowered his head. “I tried, Mister Trevelyan, but he didn’t want to come back inside and—”

 

“I’ve known Q for a long time, so I am not surprised that you didn’t get him to do something he didn’t want to do in the first place,” intervened James, carefully cleaning the snow from Q’s hair and face. “I kept my word, Quartermaster.”

 

Without hesitation, Q clung to him, also managing to grab Alec’s arm. “I don’t really understand what’s happening, if you two are really here or if I’m either suffering for hypothermia and this warmth is just Jaws trying to keep me alive of if I’m slowly dying on that cold table in the morgue while the doctor is weighing God knows which one of my internal organs, but I am happy to see familiar faces right now.”

 

Alec moved so that Q was in the middle of a very tight hug and somewhere between getting his ears nuzzled while he struggled not to start giggling due how their hot breaths on his neck tickled and assurances that he wasn’t dreaming, he found himself back in his room, cocooned in fluffy towels and thick blankets and nursing a warm cup of tea done exactly as he liked it.

 

He didn’t have to prompt them to get them talking, already knowing how they met and how much they hated each other during their first mission together even before drinking half of his tea. The way they touched each other every now and then wasn’t missed by him and even though his heart hurt a bit, he was happy for James. This time, he could actually see the love between the two so he wasn’t as sad to be the proverbial bride’s maid yet again.

 

But his happiness and peacefulness instantly disappeared when Alec started to talk about the new organization he now ran. He made sure to explain that it wasn’t anything like Spectre, James chiming in every now and then to underline that, squeezing Q’s hand before slipping him a compliment and saying about how much harder – if not outright impossible – it would have been for MI6 and him to take them down.

 

“You’d think I’d be used to people coming back to life after having him as an agent,” Q said when he caught a moment of silence, jabbing his finger towards James, “but I am still shocked that I am standing shoulder to shoulder with the famed 006.”

 

Alec grinned at him and threw his arm over his shoulder, squeezing him. “If I wouldn’t have been playing dead,” he grabbed James’ hand, “again, I didn’t mean to hurt you, tigr,” he pulled back when the bones in his hand cracked, James clearly still not fully over the whole things, “you would have been my favourite—”

 

“What do you two want from me?” Q deadpanned, elbowing Alec away and fixing James with a glare. The novelty of being out of jail and not dead had worn off and his common sense returned to him. “And don’t pull that innocent act on me; I’ve known you for long enough to tell when you want something from me and this would be one of those cases.”

 

It hurt to say that, especially after he had been so happy to see him – well, as long as he were honest with himself, them – and after he felt like had had come back to life after he had been held against James in complete silence and safety until it was time for him to go back to his cell, but the truth rarely came without pain.

 

“Q, leaving you behind was a mistake—”

 

“We’re not in a romantic movie, Bond. And I asked you to spare me that act,” Q snapped at him. “After years of loyalty, I think I deserve more from you so just tell me what you want from me already.”

 

“For starters, your cherry when it comes to the two of us,” Alec said simply, not flinching when James kicked him in the knee.

 

Double oh agents were known to do crazy things, especially if they lived to see the beginning of their old ages, but this was too much even with taking that into consideration. Helping someone escape prison just because they wanted to get in their respective pants? Q couldn’t help but worry for the security of the country and the lives of all the other agents.

 

“A request for a conjugal visit would have been much easier than having me think that I’d be forced to experience my actual autopsy,” he said in the calmest way he could manage, although his words still came out hissed and his fisted hands were shaking by his side in pure anger as all the blankets and towels pooled around his feet.

 

James took his fists in his hands and brushed his lips against his knuckles, Alec nuzzling his neck while covering him back up and Q hated how weak in the knees he felt. The again, the man he had been dreaming for a long time was showing him something that might be confused with affection and he had been so terrified of prison and of how the sound carried in those walls that he hadn’t dared to properly deal with himself since he was stuck behind bars – and Alec was a pleasing sight for sore eyes and he seemed to know how to use his lips to calm him down.

 

“I should have left James do all the explaining as I do tend to express myself wrongly,” Alec purred in his ear, massaging his sides, and making his head spin even more than it already was. “Why don’t we draw you a nice, hot bath first?”

 

Oh, that sounded so nice and the tub he saw in what he assumed to be his bathroom was huge. He would love turning into a prune while all the bubbles disappeared and the water turned icy cold, but he wasn’t going to allow himself to be distracted by that promise of heave. “Because I don’t think with my dick, so spill the beans already.”

 

Alec chuckled, ruffling his hair before pulling away. “I suspect that the makeup on your chest will start to itch soon, so I will go draw you that bath while you and James alone discuss things seriously. But Q, no matter what you decide and no matter how sour he’ll look, you’re free to do whatever you want.”

 

An awkward silence stretched between them after the bathroom door closed, James sitting down by the window while Q refused to give into his weak legs and sit on the bed since he felt like that would be a position of weakness. But this conversation couldn’t be avoided. He wanted and needed to know how they wanted to use him so he could put both men – and especially James – in the same boat as the MI6 higher ups and then move on to licking his soul wounds and hopefully be able to move on as a civilian.

 

“This is what happens when we don’t have a posh voice of reason breathing in our ears,” was how James chose to start the serious conversation, and Q snorted at the familiarity of everything. “I missed hearing that.”

 

“I wish I could say that I missed you beating around the bush, but you never did.” Not exactly the truth, but the former agent had never this obvious when he did that – plus, he was sure that James wasn’t in a position to correct him even if he were to suddenly claim that the sky was red with green polka dots. “Tell me honestly: would Alec have been my guardian and would you two have snuck me out of prison if I wouldn’t be an IT genius and you two wouldn’t need me for something?”

 

James sighed, his shoulders slouching for probably the first time in his life. “I’m not going to lie and say that I don’t want you to work with us or that we don’t want to have a relationship with you.”

 

Q frowned. “Working with MI6, a veridical information agency, landed me in prison after I gave them my soul so I can only imagine what will happen if I start working for you two.” He turned his head away from Bond, crossing his arms over his chest. “I won’t even bother to explain why I won’t sleep with someone who’s in a relationship, even if it is an open one.”

 

“With that boneless chicken as M, you worked _for_ them, not _with_ them,” James corrected him and tugged him next to himself on the windowsill, not letting go of his hand. “That won’t be the case with us. You’ll be a partner, not just the Quartermaster. You also misunderstood the relationship part, but I suppose a meaningful threesome outside of the sheets is not exactly a common thing and while you…” He trailed off, coughing. “You might not be interested in Alec and you might be distrustful of me right now, so we’ll drop this topic.”

 

He will give Bond credit for having the decency to not say what they both knew by this point to be the truth about Q’s feelings when it came to him, and that he had enough of a brain not to push that subject, but nothing more. “Either way, I think I’ve dabbled enough in the world of spies to last me five lifetimes.”

 

James nodded and squeezed his hand before getting up. “If that is the way you feel, after we clear your name and ensure that Janus legally replaces MI6, you’ll be free to do whatever you want.”

 

“But until then, I am going to be locked up in here,” Q added, thankful that this cage had windows without bars, was killer free – well, not counting the ones who had a license to end other’s lives – and that he had more room to stretch his legs.

 

“We can move to another island,” Alec said as he exited the bathroom, wiping his hands on his pants. “And you can go on the mainland to visit whatever you want as we do have good makeup artists working for as.” He tapped Q’s chest, reminding him of the painted scar he had there. “Will you be joining us for dinner when you’re done? As a friend and nothing more?”

 

Q looked at the two men, James serious, Alec grinning like an idiot with his arm around the other man. It was kind of hard to turn that offer down, if only because he was sick and tired of eating slop in a big empty room, his guard forced to stand by the door. “Are we using a reasonably sized table for this, or is someone overcompensating for something?”

 

James caught Alec’s hand before the man could drop his pants. “We’ll rearrange the seats so that we stand side by side.”

 

“Then yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suhoputnye voyska Rossiyskoy Federatsii - Сухопутные войска Российской Федерации - The Ground Forces of the Russian Federation  
> мой дорогой (moy dorogoy) - my dear / my darlig  
> тигр - tigr - tiger  
> My sweet: Милая моя (MIlaya Moyna)

**Author's Note:**

> The end of the request had the outcome, buuuut I figure why not make you wonder? "James is more than reluctant and hostile at first but in the end he'll chose them over his allegiance to Queen and country. Thx!"
> 
> котенок • (kotenok) – kitten  
> любовь моя • (lyubov’ moya) – my love  
> тигр • (tigr) – tiger  
> моя луна • (moya luna) – my moon  
> Comments and kudos are love <3


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